


The Next Unknown

by simplesnowflake



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Politics, Post-Frozen 2 (2019), War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesnowflake/pseuds/simplesnowflake
Summary: Some things never change, but after Ahtohallan, quite a lot did. Now Anna and Elsa somehow need to find their own paths without losing sight of each other. Except the world won't wait, and when more trouble washes up on Arendelle's shores, the sisters learn that sometimes you can't do the next right thing without the courage to confront what last went wrong. A post-Frozen 2 story.
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney), Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. With the Dawn, What Comes Then

**Author's Note:**

> _To everyone whose lives were also changed by the snow queen and her cinnamon roll of a sister; this one's for you. Don't ever forget that you are the one you've been waiting for :)_
> 
> This story was born out of a hunger for more of our favourite sisters after the second movie's ending, which opened so many doors for 'Frozen 3' fics. I just happened to tumble through one of them; because if I had my way, the sisterly love and icebros moments would never end.
> 
> This fic was posted first on ff.net and continues to be updated there first, because I always catch typos after publishing and don't have the discipline to update two sites haha. I'm doing a comprehensive edit of the earlier chapters and putting up on here as I go. Right now the ffn version is waaayyy ahead, so if you would like to catch up faster than I can edit and upload here, [please read over here.](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13467233/1/The-Next-Unknown/)
> 
> I have a tumblr ([themarshmallowattack](https://themarshmallowattack.tumblr.com/)) where I reblog Frozen content + upload scrapped scenes and other fic-relevant stuff. I sometimes (attempt to) draw scenes from the fic. Extremely lovely people have also drawn fanart! There's a pinned masterpost with everything related to The Next Unknown.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this story as much as I love writing it!

"Your Highness."

This was ridiculous. He could read the wind with a lick of his finger. He could sniff out a waterhole with his eyes closed. He'd survived blizzards with nothing but his instincts and the frozen rope tethering him to Sven. He could definitely _do this_.

"Your Highness? Sir?"

Except his foe was not a blizzard. Just another long hallway with the same white doors and the same crocus-patterned wallpaper that haunted the same dreams about running down the _same damn hallway_ , horribly aware that he was late for some important thing, except he couldn't find the right bloody door—

"His Royal Highness Kristoff Bjorgman of Arendelle?"

Kristoff's spine snapped straight as he whipped around. "Y-Yes?"

A white-haired man stood behind him, hands clasped before him atop an obsidian cane. His expression was politely neutral. "Are you lost, sir?"

"Me? No, um, just—" Kristoff winced as his voice cracked. "Just walking. Around. I'm taking a walk around the castle. What do you need?"

As soon as the words were out, Kristoff wished he could stuff them back in the way Anna shovelled pastries into her mouth. The last time he'd accidentally asked ' _What do you need?'_ Gerda had smiled bemusedly and replied, "I need to know what _you_ need, Your Highness."

What he _wanted_ was for Gerda and the other staff to go back to calling him 'Kristoff'. But right now, he needed directions. And to stop making a buffoon of himself in front of this man who, with the multitude of service medals gleaming on his crisp jacket, was clearly not a kindly servant. The man looked old enough to be Kristoff's human grandfather, and though he stood a half a head shorter, his strong, ramrod posture made Kristoff feel like he was the one looking up.

"My apologies for disturbing you. I wondered if you might know where I could find the princess. I hear she has returned."

Oh, thank God. A question he could actually answer. "No, I'm pretty sure she's still down at the school celebrating the opening of the new wing. I can pass on a message for you if you like, Mister… Minister…?"

The man gave him a long look. _Crap_. Was taking messages supposed to be below him, too? Or was he offended that Kristoff couldn't remember his name? It wasn't personal; since the wedding, he'd had at least five hundred names and faces thrown at him. Even Anna couldn't keep them all straight—and she was actually a people person.

Finally, the man offered a thin smile. "Councillor Iver Belland." _Councillor. Darn it._ "I am aware Her Majesty is still occupied in the village."

Now it was Kristoff's turn to stare. Then it sank in like a stone, and he wished _he_ could sink through the ground, too.

"Right. You meant Elsa. I'm sorry, I just… never mind. I, uh, haven't seen her around. Today, I mean. We are having games night after dinner, though, so I'm sure she'll turn up…" He trailed off, hoping the man would take it as a cue to speak. No dice. For all he knew, there was probably a punishment for interrupting royalty. If that was the case, then Kristoff might as well be on death row for all the times he'd cut through Anna's rambling.

"So yeah," he finished lamely. "Sorry I can't help. But I could still pass on a message."

Councillor Belland smiled again. Trying to read than this man was harder than playing hide-and-seek with trolls. "No matter; my business is not urgent. Thank you for your time, Your Highness. Please enjoy the rest of your walk."

With a bow (that Kristoff very nearly returned out of habit), Belland strode past with a fluidity that belied his age—did he even need that cane?—swept around the corner, and was gone.

Kristoff exhaled. But new footsteps and sounds of chatter had already caught up with him.

Now, he _knew_ that it was probably just a pair of maids doing their rounds, and he _knew_ that they wouldn't tease him after three years of watching him stumble through the castle grounds like a blind man… but the instincts that had seen him through every storm so far were now yelling for him to get out of there.

So Kristoff jumped for the nearest door and slipped inside, silently shutting it behind him. He heard the maids pass, laughing.

"Kristoff? What are you doing?"

A mortifying shriek flew from his lips. His frantic gaze landed on his equally startled company, and he let out a groan of relief. "Elsa! Oh, thank God it's just you."

The room he had barged into was unusually bright, dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall, ushering in sunlight that glowed on the ivory walls. It was minimally furnished by castle standards, populated with armchairs placed around a low, mahogany table. A gold and purple settee had been positioned against the windows—that was where Elsa sat with her feet tucked cosily beneath her, a book in her hands and a quizzically raised eyebrow on her face. Directed at him.

"'Just me'?" she repeated with a quirk of her lips, looking past him. "Where are the wolves?"

The irony was that there had once been a time Kristoff would have preferred being chased by a literal pack of wolves to finding himself alone in a room with Anna's older sister. But she'd had three years to freeze his limbs off, which meant Kristoff had had three years to learn that Elsa wasn't actually, well, _icy_. Instead, she was a subtle wave of magic flattening the cowlick in his hair right before Anna dragged him in front of a hundred expectant faces, and a meaningful clearing of the throat when another dignitary mistook Kristoff for a stablehand. She was a teary smile, giving him her blessing to marry the person at the centre of both their worlds.

"No wolves. Just happy you're back. I thought we'd only be seeing you around dinnertime." _Smooth, Kristoff. She kind of lives here, too_. " _Not_ that I'm saying you're not welcome at any time. Anna would kick herself for missing out if she knew you were here already."

Elsa marked her page and closed her book. "That is exactly why she doesn't know yet. It would only distract her."

"Good call." The door handle was digging painfully into his back. "Speaking of distractions, someone was looking for you just then. One of the councillors?"

Was that a grimace as Elsa tucked a piece of hair behind one ear? "I'm already aware. Thank you, though."

Wait. If he had bolted into the nearest room, and Elsa had been in here the entire time… Kristoff blanched. "Did you hear everything?"

"No?" Elsa's brow furrowed in that self-conscious, ready-to-apologise manner of someone accustomed to knowing the answers. "Should I have?"

"Um… no. It's good that you didn't. I was just lost. Again. Always been better with open spaces. Just need another three years to get used to the place. Hah..."

Elsa and Anna had the same eyes, but their gazes couldn't be more different. When Anna looked at Kristoff, he felt seen; when Elsa looked at him, he felt seen _through_. And the way she regarded him now, head slightly tilted, reminded him that he wasn't simply in the company of Anna's older sister, or even _his_ sister-in-law. Because, beneath the relaxed smile, Elsa still bore all the quiet shrewdness and effortless poise of a queen.

That was how Kristoff knew he was far from alone when it came to fumbling Elsa's new—old?—title, the same way he was conscious of the fact that no councillor had ever specifically sought Princess Anna the way they now prowled after Princess Elsa. Regardless of her abdication and humility, the Snow Queen wasn't someone you could ' _Your Highness'_ away.

But then she was gone, and it was just Elsa's amused but kind voice that said, "It is quite easy to get turned around inside the castle. Anna and I are still finding forgotten secret passages, and we grew up within these walls."

"Right? I try to get my bearings by memorising the paintings on the walls; I've just never been in this part of the castle without Anna. I don't know how Olaf does it… what?"

Elsa wore a sheepish look. "Actually, the staff rotate the artwork around the castle every change of season."

"Oh. _Oh_. Well. That explains a lot."

His stomach released a feral growl of protest, washing away the last dregs of his dignity.

Sighing, Kristoff looked up to find Elsa fighting back a grin. "Can you please give me very, _very_ explicit directions to the kitchen?"

"No."

"Thanks—wait, did you say _no_?"

"Yes." With that rare smile of mischief, Elsa looked so much like Anna. She held out a plate of sandwiches. Kristoff hadn't noticed upon entering, but there was also a tray of tea and biscuits on the table in front of her. "I can give you more than directions, if you would care to join me."

His stomach grumbled a second time. "Thanks, but isn't that your lunch?"

"Having Anna as a sister means I'm quite proficient at sharing. I'm sure you empathise."

No kidding. Between Anna and Sven, it was a wonder Kristoff hadn't yet starved to death.

Realising he had been hovering by the door like an antisocial dunce the whole time, Kristoff finally walked into the room and sank into an armchair across from Elsa. Only when he had taken a bite of sandwich did she sit back with a cup of tea, which she sipped while Kristoff shamelessly devoured the plate. He hadn't noticed how ravenous he was.

"You could have asked the staff to bring you something from the kitchens instead of going down there yourself. Gerda would be appalled if she found out you were wandering the halls hungry."

Kristoff remembered at the last moment to swallow before opening his mouth. "I know. I figured I'd get some extra carrots for Sven while I was at it."

"The staff could also arrange that."

"I know," Kristoff said again, because ' _I'm not used to having people do stuff for me'_ seemed like an insensitive thing to say to someone who hadn't chosen to be raised with their every need attended to. It wasn't like he had a point to prove. If he were being honest, he'd gotten used to the basic luxuries that had come with being a guest of the royal family—like not having to choose between buying carrots for Sven, or replacing his thrice-patched tunic.

It was the being _part_ of the royal family bit that changed things a little. Maybe more than a little.

Elsa set aside her tea and reached under the settee, coming back up with a bundle of knitting. She cast Kristoff a shy glance. "I hid it when you charged in."

"Sorry. Should've knocked." He gestured. "That looks like your mother's scarf."

The comment seemed to please her. "You think so? Yelana's been teaching me Northuldra craftwork." She raised the work in progress for him to see. It was a mossy turquoise, with the beginnings of an impressively intricate diamond pattern. Then again, Elsa didn't seem capable of making anything _not_ intricate and impressive.

"Surprise present for Anna?"

"If she doesn't discover it first." Elsa worked to untangle a snarl of knots that must have occurred as a result of being hastily tossed about. "I wasn't sure about bringing it with me. You know how Anna tends to… appear without warning." She cast a meaningful look towards the door, as if wary of jinxing herself. "So it was also a good thing for me that it was just you."

Kristoff chuckled. "That explains why you were holding your book upside down earlier."

"Was I really?"

"Yep. Ice harvester's honour. Don't worry; I won't tell Anna."

They lapsed into a companionable silence. Kristoff had seen Anna knit him a scarf in one day ("Thirteen years of me time," she'd said casually. "Wait till you see me play solitaire.") and could tell that it didn't come as easily to Elsa. Her movements were careful rather than automatic, and she seemed fully absorbed in the task.

Kristoff polished off the sandwiches and sat picking bread crumbs off of his palm. Several more moments trickled past.

"Anna is—" he began, at the same time that she asked, "How is Anna?"

They stared at each other. And shared a wry smile.

Kristoff's shoulders loosened. "Well, it's only been three months since her coronation and we just got back from our honeymoon." If a tour through the kingdom counted as a honeymoon. One full month of meeting the people, kissing babies, wining and dining with dukes and barons whose names and well wishes had all blurred into one big migraine by the time they finally returned to Arendelle. "You know Anna. She's hit the ground running—literally running. Taken to leadership like a walrus to ice."

He saw Elsa's hands stop. _Get it together._

"Which is not to say I'm _surprised_ she's doing such a good job! She did follow you everywhere for three years, and she somehow _knows_ everyone. It's a bit scary to watch, actually… I don't mean I'm scared of _Anna_. Well, sometimes I am. But most of the time I'm not."

Elsa's laugh startled him. "I'm sorry… 'like a walrus to ice'?"

Kristoff flushed. "It's an ice harvester thing."

"Anna and ice. They always seem to find a way into our conversations, don't they?"

"What can I say? It's all I know. And, well, they're both beautiful. When Anna walked down the aisle towards me in that dress you made for her? I kid you not, I nearly fainted. I-In a good way!" _Good job. You basically admitted to undressing her baby sister with your eyes in front of the entire kingdom._

"Kristoff?"

Lord help him. "Yeah? I mean—yes?"

"You're very welcome." The amused edge to Elsa's reply seemed to imply: _You'd_ better _have been looking at her._

Kristoff blinked back. Then he laughed. Elsa joined in.

The door exploded open.

"Elsa, you're here! Oh, and Kristoff! Are you guys having a party without me? How could you—whoa!"

Already hopping on one foot to take off her shoes, Anna was defenceless when Kristoff hastily vaulted over the armchair and swept her off her feet. Her surprise melted into a goofy grin as he spun her around. "Hey, you. Are you trying to get between me and my sister?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Your Majesty. I've seen what happens to folks who try."

A discreet glance revealed that Elsa had hidden her knitting in time. Anna was still smiling down at him, her hands on his shoulders. Several wisps of strawberry blonde hair had escaped from her bun, some caught on the corner of her mouth. There were flowers in her hair and Kristoff could easily picture her sitting on the grass while schoolchildren clambered all over her. She smelled like sunshine.

It was little wonder he couldn't find his way anywhere. Everything led him back to her.

* * *

Elsa didn't need to knock because the doors were already wide open.

Technically, there was no physical room for the doors to close at all. Books and papers littered the study floor in precarious stacks, tracing a haphazard maze towards the unexpectedly tidy desk. Barring, of course, the Queen of Arendelle sprawled across it on her back, reading a missive held above her head. Her bare feet tapped out a gentle rhythm against the side of the desk; the same eight notes that had stubbornly rained down on Elsa's door for thirteen years.

Elsa stood at the doorway for a moment, soaking in the sight of her sister being both Anna and the queen at the same time. And something unclenched inside her, just a little, while something else tightened in its place. If only Father and Mother could see Anna now.

"It must take all of Kai's self-control not to come in and tidy this," she announced.

Anna's head turned, the joy in her eyes illuminated by candlelight. "Oh, he tries. But then I tell him, 'If I can't find last year's shipment records where I left them next to the window with my pet rock on top, you can explain to Elsa why we can't import the nice chocolate from Switzerland.' Works like a charm. Am I late for charades?"

"Not yet. Olaf is still going around asking the staff for more words. Also, please stop terrorising the kingdom in my name."

Anna scoffed and raised a finger to make a point. Then stopped to sniff the air. She shot upright. "Is that hot cocoa?!"

Elsa held the mug out of reach. "It looks to me like our chocolate imports are faring quite well indeed."

"Looks to me like _I'm_ the one being terrorised." Anna's _give me_ motions intensified.

Elsa gestured for the missive that had fallen into her sister's lap. "I'll trade you."

"Be my guest; it concerns you more than me, anyway." Anna proceeded to pour the beverage down her throat. "Ack! Hot hot hot!"

Sighing, Elsa reached over and wrapped a hand around the mug to cool it. Then she leaned back against the desk beside Anna's crossed legs and skimmed through the letter. She grimaced.

Anna nudged her, mirth swimming in her voice. "Well? Should I write back to Lord Nilsen and tell him it would be my honour to have his son as my brother-in-law?"

"You should not. Lord Nilsen's son could easily have been _my_ brother-in-law. I received his proposals for your hand year after year."

"Too bad, already spoken for. You, on the other hand, are not. Are you sure you don't want to give what's-his-name a chance? I hear he's quite a looker!"

"He is." Elsa refolded the parchment along its creases. "We met him two years ago, do you remember? He attended Buferdsdagen with his father."

"Really?"

"You played hide-and-seek with him."

"… I what?"

Elsa handed the letter back to her sister, trying not to laugh. "If I remember correctly, Tobias Nilsen just turned twelve years old."

Anna blinked. Then she dissolved into snorts and giggles. " _Twelve_! That's worse than the old baron who wanted to make me his third wife!"

"Fifth wife." Elsa rescued the hot cocoa.

" _Twelve_!" Anna screeched again, collapsing over Elsa. "Everyone wants their own Snow Queen. Well, they can't have her. She's all mine." Her tone descended into mischief. "Unless she's _interested_ in someone?"

"I assure you, she most definitely is not."

"What about Ryder?" Anna took one look at her expression and moved on. "Yeah, can't see that happening either. Honeymaren? Because you know I'd be totally cool with that—not that you need my approval to be interested in anyone… well. Maybe. Actually, yes. Let me at 'em."

" _Anna_." Smiling, Elsa tugged on a pigtail. "I'm not interested in anyone, or in anything more than what I already have. I _am_ spoken for; I have a sister I love more than anything, even if she is at times unbearably nosy."

"Nonsense. You love my nose." Anna rested her cheek atop Elsa's head. "But you'll tell me if that changes?"

"My sentiments on your nose?"

"You know what I mean!"

 _Don't I tell you everything?_ It was there on the tip of her tongue. It was so easy to say.

Until another voice stole over hers. _But you didn't. You haven't._

 _I won't. I can't_.

 _Tell her you're making her a scarf. Tell her why. Tell her that you_ know _._

Hiding her clenched fists in the folds of her dress, Elsa heard herself say, "Who else would I tell, silly?"

Perhaps if Anna hadn't yawned at that moment, she would have noticed something. But she only rubbed her eyes and said, "I don't know, sis—the way you've been smelling like reindeer, it's only a matter of time before you start talking to them like Kristoff."

"You're incurable." Elsa's voice softened. "Tired?"

"Nope. Maybe. Kinda. But I'll not be called a workaholic by you, of all people. See, _I_ know how to delegate. This is all I have left for today!" Anna made a grand sweeping gesture at the modest stack of missives on her desk. "Which reminds me: I need your advice on a few things… well, all right, an entire mountain's worth of things. But we can go over it later. How long are you staying this time?"

It was the effortlessly light-hearted tone that gave her away. On any other person, it could have been a question about the weather. Anna, though, was neutral about exactly nothing, especially when it came to Elsa. And Elsa had to bite back the urge to say ' _As long as you need me to'_ because Anna, of all people, had managed not to ask ' _Can you stay?'_

They were both dreadful liars. But Anna was getting very good at being queen.

Elsa set aside Lord Nilsen's letter and straightened, steadying Anna before she could tumble off. Then she turned around and raised a hand to her sister's face, gently brushing away a curl.

Anna's curious stare melted into a contented smile as she pressed her cheek into Elsa's hand. "What's up?"

_There you are._

Elsa shook her head. "I will be around long enough that we can postpone games night until tomorrow."

"What about the tomorrow after that? And tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow?"

"Yes, Anna."

Now her sister's expression was radiant. "And Olaf's birthday?"

"I'm always there for Olaf's birthday."

"But you'll be around _until_ then?"

Elsa cupped Anna's face in both her hands and leaned in so their foreheads touched. "Yes. I'll be here."

"Okay," her little sister whispered.

Elsa wished she could freeze this moment and carry it around in a bottle.

Then Anna jerked up, and her nose cracked against Elsa's brow. "Wait—why are we postponing games night?"

* * *

"… and then she told me to grab you and go on a date because apparently we both looked like we needed one, and she kicked me out of the study. _My_ study."

"I still don't get it."

"Really? Which part?"

"The part where we had to climb the castle wall. And sprint across the bridge while Olaf distracted the guards."

"What? That was the only part that made sense! How else were we supposed to sneak out without Mattias siccing a whole battalion on us?"

"On _you_ ," Kristoff corrected. "He's only posted guards on all the exits because _you_ keep giving him the slip. Poor man's just trying to do his job."

"I know, I know. Hang on, let me put my shoes back on." Taking Kristoff's hand, Anna hopped back into her flats. Boy was she glad she'd thought to change into trousers beforehand. "It's just hard to walk around town flanked by soldiers. It intimidates the folk, and it's not like I'm going to get attacked in my kingdom. Elsa didn't have a personal guard."

"Elsa can kind of shoot ice from her hands. You kind of have a tendency to run into fire and other dangers in various stages of collapsing on you. While pissing off creatures ten times your size."

"Exactly! Sneaking out of my own castle is child's play in comparison. Besides…" Anna rose on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I have a valiant pungent reindeer king to protect me."

Kristoff rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smirk on his chapped lips, and moonlight dancing over his blonde curls. It occurred to Anna that Elsa was right; they really were long overdue for a date.

"Prince consort, remember? Not a king."

"Look at you go, Mister I-Hate-Formalities." Anna counted the planks beneath them, gaining a spring to her step as she avoided the cracks. "You know what? Let's play Truth or Dare instead of charades tomorrow."

"Why?"

She shot him a sideways smile. "So I can dare you to tell me what's been bugging you. Or get you to just tell me the truth."

Kristoff blinked at her and then shook his head with a rueful grin. "It'd be a waste of a turn. Nothing is bugging me."

"Nice try. Normal Kristoff would have said—" Anna deepened her voice and puffed out her chest. "' _Nothing is bugging me except_ you _, Feisty Pants!_ '"

"Please. I sound nothing like that. Ow! What was that for?"

Anna withdrew her karate chop from his side, her nose tipped upwards. "You missed your cue to say ' _I would never say that about you, darling! I worship every word that leaves your beautiful lips!'"_

"Honey," Kristoff drawled with a smile in his voice—at least she'd gotten him to smile. "That's something only Sven would say."

Anna could think of someone else who would say that; someone who had once looked at her with nothing but sincerity in his dreamy green eyes. Someone she'd met on this very dock, come to think of it. The first time she'd been out of the gates—the first time she'd felt _seen_. But, like the idiot he'd pegged her for, she had failed to see _him_ , and she hadn't listened to Elsa's ' _You can't marry a man you just met'_. She hadn't seen who he really was until ' _Oh, Anna'_ and it had almost been a good thing that he'd extinguished the fireplace, because the cold had numbed her too deeply to cry. He had stolen her heart and nearly her sister and kingdom, but at least she'd never given him the satisfaction of her tears.

Even Anna could tell her voice was a little too bright. "I had a great time at the school today! We made cookies. I just maybe ate them before I could bring some back for you. Your fault for not being there. The children missed you and Sven."

"About that." Kristoff tugged at his ear with the hand not holding hers. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it. Getting my portrait done took forever because I couldn't make my face do what the painter wanted, and then I got lost in the castle."

"Wait, portrait? What portrait? Don't we already have one of you? After the wedding?"

"I don't know. Didn't think to ask. Maybe the last one didn't turn out well?"

"Trust me, it turned out _very_ well." Perhaps Kai had mentioned something to her and she'd forgotten all about it. Oh God, did that mean _she_ had to sit for another one, too? Mother used to love reminding her that their first family portrait had taken a whole month, on account of Anna bouncing off of every surface. If only photographs could be enlarged to the size of a painting. "You could have just said you had business to attend to and rescheduled the sitting. Jorgan is a sweetheart; he wouldn't have held you prisoner."

Kristoff gave her a dry look. "Oh yeah? And why didn't _you_ simply order the guards into secrecy so we could walk into town like civilised beings?"

Anna opened her mouth, came up empty, and shut it again. "Okay, fine; we both need to get better at saying 'no' to people. We'll ask Elsa for lessons."

"Elsa is also tragic at saying 'no', especially to you."

"Well, yes. But have you _heard_ her Snow Queen voice? Like that time the ambassador from France wanted the bishop to toss holy water on Olaf? Boy, her magic was not the coldest thing that day."

"Hah. You weren't there that time the head chef of some fancy restaurant complained that the ice I'd delivered smelled like horse manure."

Anna's head snapped around. " _Who_ said _what_ to you?"

"Not important. Elsa totally handled it." Kristoff released her hand to clasp his together, and narrowed his eyes in such a shockingly accurate impression of an unimpressed Elsa that Anna couldn't help giggling. "First of all," he said in a clipped and dangerous tone. "Sven is a _reindeer_."

"She said that? Oh my God. I can't breathe."

"Oh, there's more where that came from." Kristoff grinned as Anna, wheezing, clutched him for balance. You remember that fancy ball in the Great Hall last year?"

"Which one?"

"The one where some prince from I-Forget-Where cut into our dance and spent the rest of the night stepping on your toes."

"Oh my gosh, _yes_. Don't remind me."

"You remember how he slipped and fell into the kransekake?"

"You bet! I was so surprised it wasn't _me_ who… hold on. Are you saying _Elsa_ did that?"

Kristoff nodded smugly. "She made sure I was close enough to catch you first. Made me look real smooth, didn't it?"

"You… what? I can't believe you guys. How did you two get into so much mischief without me? I _am_ the mischief!"

"Honestly, I have no idea. Elsa somehow always showed up when I was in a tight spot." Kristoff's voice grew pensive. "I guess I didn't realise until recently how much she looked out for me."

Anna knew that feeling.

She bit her lip and looked up at Kristoff. "You'll tell me if anyone is giving you a hard time, won't you?"

His lips quirked. "And what would you do about it, Queen Feisty Pants?"

"Whack 'em with a lute."

"No flaming bedrolls? I'm shocked."

"Proof of my maturity," Anna flicked a pigtail over her shoulder, making Kristoff laugh. "I'm serious, though. Promise you'll tell me if you need a break from anything. You're probably still shell-shocked after the honeymoon tour—it drove _me_ bonkers. And I know you have these thoughts about not being good enough, which is absolutely _not true_. But if it makes you uncomfortable, you don't actually have to sit with me in court every day because only, like, a tenth of council meetings are actually productive. Oh God, how are we only having this conversation now? And _why are you smiling like that?_ "

"Because," he chuckled, "you're acting like I'm going to realise this isn't what I signed up for and run off screaming."

"To be fair, we didn't know that Elsa was going to abdicate when you got down on one knee."

"I also didn't know you were a princess when you chucked a bag of carrots at my head three years ago."

"Hey, I said I was sorry!"

"Look," Kristoff said lightly. "I'm an ice harvester, okay? I was raised by trolls and my best friend is a reindeer."

"And I can fit eighteen marshmallows in my mouth. Your point?"

"I'm just saying I'm not good with people, let alone rich people. Even after you bought me a new sled and Elsa gave me a fancy title, I couldn't figure out how to play that power game. It's easy for them to make jabs at me for wearing my fluffy neck thing wrong because I _do_. And they're so pompous and subtle about it, half the time I don't realise I shouldn't be smiling and nodding back until you or Elsa start throwing death stares. So yeah, it gets me down now and then. People don't usually sign up for things that make them miserable, Anna."

Her chest tightened. "Is that what you are, Kristoff?" she whispered. "Miserable?"

"What? No!"

"You just said—"

"Don't you get it? Was life simpler when all I had to worry about was me and Sven? Heck yes. But was it better? No." Kristoff gripped her shoulders and bent so they were level. Holding her gaze, he said, "I didn't sign up for royalty, Anna. I signed up for _you_."

She wanted so badly.

She wanted to say ' _Aww!_ ' and rib him for his cheesiness. She wanted to throw her arms around him and fight anyone who dared to suggest that she'd let Arendelle down by marrying for love. She wanted to escape into the mountains with him and build a cosy little cabin next to a lake, surrounded by singing birds.

But she also wanted to do _more_ for her home, her people, so at the very least she wanted to protect Kristoff the way she could reject outrageous proposals for Elsa's hand. A queen should be able to do that much.

Kristoff was only in the firing line _because_ she was the queen. And he still wanted to be the one standing next to her.

She absolutely, definitely, did not want to cry. They were in public. She was the queen. He was a sweet-as-nectar dork.

She burst into tears.

"Whoa! _Anna_? I-I didn't say I wouldn't try to learn the game! Once I remember who's in the council and figure out what I can actually do, I can help you. Who else is going to keep you from installing a chocolate fountain in the square, right? So you don't need to worry about me getting bullied, okay? I just have to prove myself to them. Anna?"

She bawled even harder.

"Oh God. What else? Um… oh! Olaf and I have been reading up on, you know, useful stuff! Like which knives and forks to use at dinner! And I've started carrying a handkerchief! Wait. _I'm carrying a handkerchief._ "

All Anna could make out was the blurry outline of her husband spinning around and slapping all his pockets. God, he was hopeless. He was hopelessly hers.

She barrelled into him from behind and buried her face in his back. "You're a dork," she mumbled. "And I love you."

She felt him sag in relief. "Well, that's reassuring."

Anna squeezed him tighter and closed her eyes. _Home_ , she thought to herself. It was Kristoff and Elsa, and Olaf and Sven. It was Kai and Gerda and Joan. But sometimes she forgot that it was also a night out on the streets she loved so. It was creaky ships and the salty breeze blowing through the fjord. It was the sound of gentle waves lapping against the dock.

Anna's eyes flickered open. "Kristoff? Do you hear that?"

His look of confusion and scepticism told her that he didn't.

She released him and stepped towards the fjord, head cocked. "I definitely heard something. There's this… voice."

Kristoff's eyebrows bunched together. "I hear nothing. Must be a sister thing. A fifth spirit tingle."

"What? That's not a thing." She walked to the edge of the boardwalk and peered into the dark water. "I swear I—"

It sliced through the air then, weak and faraway. Yet so shrill and raw that Anna nearly fell into the fjord. Kristoff's hand seized hers, and when their wide eyes met, she knew that he'd heard it, too.

_Screaming._

* * *

There was no point pretending that she didn't miss some parts of it.

The stubbornly uncomfortable chair. Their father's portrait on the wall. The royal seal in the top drawer. The endless list of tasks and matters to follow, one by one, day by day. The monotony. The surety.

Anna seemed to have misplaced her old letter opener, so Elsa fashioned one from ice and savoured the satisfying _schlik_ it made as it sliced open the first envelope. She unfolded the parchment and scanned it with a practiced eye—wax seal, signature, first line of each paragraph. Seconds later, she placed it on the larger of the two piles before her.

Then she deliberated. A herd of escaped cattle was terrible for the farmers and would inflate market prices until they could recoup the losses. Yet Elsa's instincts told her Anna would be delighted the animals had been given a second lease on life. She transferred the missive to the good news pile and reached for another.

She missed the reading. The Northuldra were an oral people and Elsa didn't think it respectful to attach a wagonload of books on the Nokk. She didn't have the time to read in the Forest, anyway. But each time she coaxed another folktale from Yelana, or followed the spirits to yet another unknown, Elsa's fingers would itch for pen and paper to write it down. And when her mind wandered sleeplessly beneath a too-silent canopy, it didn't help that her only reading material was her trove of Anna's notes.

She missed the sound of Anna's carefree laughter wafting through the open window, and the racing footfalls that announced her sister long before the doors slammed open.

 _Schlik._ Good news. _Schlik_. Bad news.

"Hi, Elsa!"

She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Olaf. Come join me."

He was already skipping inside. Elsa began to tell him to be careful, but Olaf swiftly navigated the labyrinth of paperwork with ease. At least Anna seemed to have a regular visitor. "Guess what? I helped Anna and Kristoff sneak into the village! They're having a _date_. Are we having a date right now?"

"We can call it that if you like." She set the letter opener down and gave Olaf her full attention. "How have you been?"

He let out a weighty sigh. "I'm _older_."

"That's… very relatable, Olaf."

Then he perked up. "But at least summer's just around the corner! Which means it's my birthday soon!"

It also meant four years since her coronation. Since losing her glove and fleeing to the North Mountain towards what she'd thought was freedom. Since building a snowman without her sister's help for the first time in ever. Four years since Anna—

"I _love_ birthdays!" Olaf beamed.

Elsa smiled back faintly and wondered if Olaf could sense her magic throbbing at her fingertips. "We know you do, little guy. See? Getting older isn't so bad. You learned how to read." She lifted him onto the desk. "Would you like to help me sort Anna's mail? She'll read it properly later, but it will be much easier for her if we first organise everything by urgency. That way, she can prioritise her time. She loses focus easily, so to keep her interested we're going to divide it—"

"Into good news and bad news!" Olaf clapped in delight. "How exciting! That's exactly how Anna used to sort your mail. She said the rule was to take one from each pile so you weren't stressed by consecutive bad news. Oh, my—that's the first time I've said 'consecutive' out loud. _Con-se-cu-tive_. Such a snazzy long word!"

She didn't miss the sleep deprivation and endless buzzing thoughts about the next pressing matter. She definitely did not miss the constant meetings with strangers from foreign lands, or the way negotiations always seemed to end with dignitaries requesting a show of her powers, as if they'd come expecting a circus act. She did not miss the bottomless pressure on her shoulders, reminding her she was perpetually only one misstep away from messing everything up.

But those precious three years had been the only time in her life that Elsa had wished for absolutely nothing at all to change. And that, she missed infinitely.

 _Schlik._ Good news. _Shlik._ _Shlik._ _Shlik._ Bad news.

"Elsa?"

"Yes, Olaf?"

"I don't know what to do with this one. It's kinda weird."

"How about you summarise it for me and I'll decide?"

"Well… I think someone is, um… dead? And it's signed by the king of… hmm. Gosh, this handwriting is appalling. Horrendous. Atrocious?"

Elsa caught a flash of a familiar wax seal. Her blood chilled. "Olaf. May I see that?"

"Most obligingly!"

She didn't skim it. She read the whole thing, every word. Twice. On the sixth read, she could have sworn the serpent on the seal was watching her, the gemstone around which it was coiled gleaming sinisterly.

A snowflake dissolved into the parchment.

The chair scraped loudly as Elsa shot to her feet. She held it together long enough to assure Olaf that everything was fine; she just had to find Anna because he was right. This letter didn't belong in either pile.

This letter was not just a letter.

Out in the hall, Elsa seized her dress and ran.

She nearly collided with General Mattias leaping up the stairs. They stared breathlessly at each other for a moment, then started speaking at the same time.

"Thank goodness you're here. We need to call a council meeting. Have you seen Anna?"

"Your Ma—Highness. We have an emergency."

Suddenly, Elsa became aware that the night's peace had already been shattered. Raised voices, horns blowing, boots stampeding. "What happened? Is Anna safe?"

Mattias must have heard the brittle ice in her voice because he hastened to say, "She's fine—well, she's a little wet. Soaked. But safe. Even though she would have been saf _er_ if she hadn't snuck past the guards for a night of romance."

"That may have been my fault." Elsa continued hurrying down the stairs with the general hot on her heels. "Why is she soaked?"

"It appears she jumped into the fjord."

Elsa spun around incredulously. "To _swim_?" Surely Kristoff wouldn't have indulged her recklessness.

"To save lives."

"... I beg your pardon?"

Mattias's dark eyes were sombre. "There are people in the water, Your Highness. Men, women, children. Swimming. Drowning. Anna mobilised all guards and boats for the rescue effort. Every person we fish out is saying the same thing; that they came from—"

"The Southern Isles," Elsa finished softly. The letter crumpled in her glistening fist.

It was already far, far too late to wish that nothing else would change.


	2. Dive Down Deep

More. There had to be more.

“Your Majesty, the boat is full—we must turn back!”

More space. “No! We can fit one more!”

“He hasn’t resurfaced. We don’t know if he’s still—”

More time. “He was  _ right there!  _ Bring us closer and give me more light.”

The water’s surface smouldered as a flaming torch rose high behind her. Anna thrust the oar into the water. “Come on, come on…  _ please _ .”

“Your Majesty…”

She shook her head furiously, scattering droplets from her sopping hair. “I  _ saw _ him! He’s just a kid… he must be so scared. We can’t just—wait! Hold the light still.”

But the torchlight jerked erratically and threw the water back into the black.

Anna nearly screamed in frustration. “I said,  _ hold the _ —”

Except she didn’t come face to face with old Mr. Sandberg, who had a poor reputation for hogging the fishing waters yet had been the first to volunteer his boat when Anna raised the alarm. The torch had been passed down to the woman behind Anna, whose wet hair was matted down over her face so all that was visible were a pair of wide grey eyes sitting above purple lips. She clutched the torch with both hands, but still she shivered so badly that it zigzagged uncontrollably above her head.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” she gasped out, teeth chattering. “I c-c-ca… ca…n’t…”

Anna stared at the pale faces huddled in the boat, all of them shivering violently. And something inside her crumpled. The oar went slack in her white-knuckled grip. “No,” she croaked. “ _ I’m _ sorry… I’m so, so sorry.”

This was a boat intended for squirming fish nets and buckets of bait and occasionally a few bottles of akevitt shared between mates. It was never made for leaning over the water to shout “Take my hand!” or for people to collapse over each other as they heaved and sobbed and curled up.

Wasn’t there more she could do?

For a long while, the only sounds were chattering teeth and sniffling. Finally, Anna looked at Mr. Sandberg and gave him a small, defeated nod. He ran a weathered hand over his bald crown and began to turn the boat around.

They all heard the splash.

Anna’s head jerked up. She scrambled back to the boat’s edge and squinted desperately into the water. “Light,” she choked out. Then, more urgently: “Light!”

More trembling hands helped to steady the woman’s torch, holding it higher, casting enough light for Anna to—”I see him.  _ I see him _ .”

The boy had resurfaced even further away from them, his white face barely visible, too far for the oars to reach. Anna drew her hair back and wrapped it into a loose knot as Mr. Sandberg wrestled to turn them back. The boat rocked and groaned, moving at glacial speed.

“Stop the boat, Mr. Sandberg. We can’t afford to capsize.”

“But Queen Anna, the boy—”

She plunged into the water.

* * *

The first person they’d dragged out of the fjord hadn’t been responsive. Anna had run for help while Kristoff pumped on the stranger’s chest. Not once had she doubted that she would return to the sight of the woman coughing and choking and breathing. Revived.

But Kristoff was still doing compressions. His pained eyes met hers and she stared back uncomprehendingly because  _ none of this made sense _ . How could there be a woman lying unmoving on the same dock where they had strolled hand in hand just minutes ago? What was she even doing in the fjord in the first place? Where had she come from?

More screams and shouts echoed in the distance.

Mr. Sandberg protested when she jumped into his boat. But he took one look at her expression and wisely clammed up.

The second person they pulled up passed out after vomiting up an ocean.

The third one couldn’t stop crying.

The fourth made it to the boat on his own. He grabbed Anna’s ankle and wouldn’t let go until he sucked in enough breath to wheeze, “Please… th-there’s more.”

When he told them exactly  _ how many more _ , Kristoff had distractedly kissed her brow and made her promise to be careful before swimming back to shore to gather more help. Because there was no time to turn the boat back when  _ that many _ people were out there.

They needed more help, more boats, more time, more space. But Anna only wished to find more people alive.

* * *

She’d been wet and shivering in the wind for so long that the fjord somehow felt warm. It was hard to see, but she’d seen dark before and this was nothing like it. She wasn’t sitting helplessly. She was in movement. So she swam.

And then there was the boy and his desperate gasps. His flailing hand caught her in the face as she tried to grab him. “Hey, it’s okay—ow, hello—I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“Your Majesty!” Mr. Sandberg shouted. The torchlight had been stretched out as far out as possible, just enough to catch them in its perimeter.

“We’re fine!” Anna called back. She smiled down at the boy. “We’re fine, aren’t we? Here, put your other arm around me. Let’s catch our breath first. The boat’s going so slow I reckon we can swim back to shore faster than them. What do you think?”

The boy didn’t speak. He didn’t give her his other hand, either. His eyes followed her face, but they didn’t seem to see her. He was in shock. And he was slipping. Anna had already manoeuvred him onto his back, her arm wrapped across his chest, and was kicking hard enough for the both of them. He shouldn’t be this heavy.

“You stuck, buddy? Are your legs caught on something?”

He blinked slowly.

Anna gave him her best grin and tried to stop her teeth from chattering together. Maybe not feeling the cold wasn’t a good thing. “Don’t worry, it’s no big deal. Who needs a knight in shining armour when you’ve got an actual queen, right? We’ll have you free in no time.”

Something finally flickered in the boy’s shadowed eyes.

“What? You think I don’t look queenly? Pshh. Are monarchs where  _ you’re _ from friends with a reindeer and a talking snowman? I’ll introduce you to them when we’re dry. But before that, I’m going to need you to float on your own for a bit longer. I won’t let you sink. Do you trust me?”

The boy blinked again. It was like the fear had drained out of him and washed out all other feeling with it. He didn’t panic when Anna slowly released him, even though he sank almost immediately, his pale little face struggling to stay above water. Something was definitely dragging him down.

“Good boy,” Anna whispered. Then she dived back under, feeling her way down. She found the boy’s right arm and tried to give him a reassuring pat only to find it unusually taut. And long.

She swam deeper. Then liquid dread started flowing backwards through her veins and it took everything in her not to scream underwater.

She resurfaced, gasping. The boy latched back onto her neck and she swallowed a rush of water. But she put her arms around him and held him _ ,  _ trying to drown herself in his grief so she wouldn’t have to think about what kept brushing against her leg.

It took several restarts before she managed to ask, “Do you want to tell me who that is?”

No response.

“I-Is it your father? Mother? Big sister?”

His dark lips parted slightly.

“Sister?”

A tiny nod.

_ All she had ever wanted was to keep her sister safe. _

Anna swallowed. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay… hey, we don’t really know each other yet, huh? I’m Anna. What’s your name?”

Silence.

She swept dark strands of hair out of his eyes. “What about your sister’s?” she asked softly.

And finally, he looked right at her. “… Sofia.” His voice was surprisingly steady. Flat.

Anna forced herself to smile back. “We’re not going to leave Sofia behind, okay? I’ll send people back for her, and once you’re safe and dry, you can see her again. I promise. And I promise she hasn’t left you, either. Not forever.”

_ She didn’t know what awaited beyond the mist, but she wasn’t worried because her sister had promised they would do it together. _

“You just… belong in different places now. You’ll miss her—a lot. And that’s okay. Because when you get back up, you’re going to hear her voice teaching you how to do the next right thing, and you’ll realise someday that she doesn’t have to be  _ here _ to be  _ with _ you.”

Anna reached down and found the boy’s hand underwater, clutching his sister’s in a death grip. “We’ll do it together. Okay?”

The boy stared at her, his eyes dark as the sea. At some point, his gaze had gone from vacant to piercing. He was seeing her now, but Anna needed him to listen to her, too. Her legs were starting to burn, and she wasn’t sure she could drag the boy back to the boat if she couldn’t get him to let go—

He nodded.

She exhaled in relief and squeezed his hand.

And then the whole fjord glowed. Anna clutched the boy to her as water rushed and whipped around them. Then something hard and cold hit them from below and—

They were back into the realm of gravity. The entire fjord had been transformed into good and solid ground.  _ Ice _ .

Anna’s head snapped toward the dock, but droplets of water suspended in the air obscured her vision. They were everywhere—rising from her hair and clothes, appearing as glistening pillars above the boats. It was a rainstorm being pulled back into the heavens.

_ She was on a shattered ship surrounded by beautiful, terrible marbles of liquid memory, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what happened to them. _

A great snowflake woke the sky, hanging above Arendelle like an astrological ornament. Then that, too, dispersed like stardust—and all was dry.

Anna didn’t know whether to laugh or sob. “Guess what? That’s my sis—” She choked off.

The boy was staring at  _ his _ sister’s body, now sprawled on the ice a short distance away. Sofia lay on her side, thick auburn hair strewn across her face. She was beautiful. She was not sleeping.

_ There were flecks of snow escaping through her fingers and all she could hear was “I think she may have gone too far.” _

The boy’s gaze went hollow once more. He didn’t go to his sister. He didn’t look at Anna. Without saying a word, he staggered to his feet and began the long walk towards Arendelle. Not once did he look back. Anna knew she had to get up and follow him. But her knees had forgotten how to fight gravity.

People rushed from the docks towards those collapsed on the ice. Crowds swarmed around the grounded boats to help the passengers clamber out. Some needed to be carried away. Names were called out in hoarse, desperate cries as survivors searched for their families.

There were many unmoving shapes scattered across the ice.

And, distantly, Anna saw one person moving towards her.

She didn’t remember rising from the floor. She didn’t think of the last time she had raced across this same frozen fjord towards the same person, or the last time she’d blinked away tears, whispering,  _ Is it really you? _ She didn’t look too far ahead. She couldn’t.

She just broke it down to the next step, the next breath. And when she threw herself into Elsa’s arms, she made the choice to cry.

* * *

The queen was pale and red-eyed, her hair a bramble bush. She charged into the council chamber in a disorganised attire of General Mattias’s military jacket, a pair of ice slippers, and what seemed to be the only piece of clothing from her own wardrobe: a pair of riding pants.

Without a greeting, a smile, or even the usual stumble on the rug, Queen Anna took her seat at the head of the table. The Snow Queen stood on her right, spotless and poised, but also appearing frayed at the edges. She nodded politely back at the councillors who, unable to gauge the queen’s uncharacteristic demeanour, caught her eye instead. But Princess Elsa didn’t speak. No one did, for only the queen could open a meeting of the privy council.

A maid entered carrying a tray bearing tea and mugs of hot cocoa for the queen and princess. Queen Anna murmured “Thanks, Gerda” in a hoarse voice. Before she could drink, though, Princess Elsa reached out to touch the mug. There was a faint hiss of steam and Queen Anna smiled wanly up at her sister.

Councillor Iver Belland watched the exchange and thought:  _ children. _

The queen’s face was hidden for a long time, but when she eventually lowered the mug, her cheeks had regained some colour. So had her eyes.

She licked froth from her upper lip, missed a spot, and looked up at her councillors. Sighing, she reluctantly said, “Go on, then. Let’s hear it.”

The room erupted into voices.

“Your Majesty, you could have drowned!”

“You should not have been without your guard, let alone—”

“No one doubts your courage, but your recklessness—”

“What if it had been a trap?”

“What if you couldn’t swim?”

“What if the cold had given you frostbite?”

“What if reinforcements hadn’t arrived in time?”

“What if—”

“Okay—but what if I  _ care _ about not watching people die in front of my eyes?” The queen’s impatient snap silenced them. A second later, she seemed to realise the brusqueness of her tone. She drew back as hesitation darted across her face.

Belland and the other councillors had been privy to plenty such moments over the past three months, and so were braced for the next thing Queen Anna would do; something no sensible monarch should do—apologise.

Then she blinked again and surprised them by seeming to sweep the moment aside—no, she  _ fought _ it. She stared down the table at Mona Roys and said blankly, “‘What if I can’t  _ swim _ ?’ Really?”

Roys flushed. As overseer of the kingdom’s education system, she had no doubt forgotten that the queen was not another of her young charges. Roys’ position hadn’t existed until the first year of Queen Elsa’s rule, when the young queen had strode into a meeting with an armful of handwritten notes on the inconsistent learning outcomes, literacy rates, and instructional styles throughout the kingdom. She quoted policies from texts in foreign languages. Then, with a pinch of nervousness, she had constructed an ice model of the school, including scaffoldings of a three-year expansion plan because she wished not only to provide for the children but also grown men and women who had missed out on proper schooling in their youth.

At the end of it all, she had looked up with her sister’s same, familiar uncertainty, and said to the councillors’ slack-jawed faces, “May I receive your counsel on this matter?”

No one had questioned where she’d found the time to prepare such an elaborate proposal on her own. They had not questioned the accuracy of her architectural models. It was the first time since the accidental winter that none of them had thought to question  _ her _ .

But today, Belland had noticed her absence at the school’s opening ceremony. That, he questioned.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, we are all well-acquainted with your worrying lack of regard for your own safety.” All heads turned to stare at Hakon Erling. He sat at the far end of the table, yet that distance seemed to shrink as he spoke. “But Arendelle looks to its queen, and tonight your actions have me wondering if you have forgotten that queen is now you.”

A ring of stunned silence. Then the heads swivelled back to Queen Anna, who blinked like she wasn’t sure what had just been said.

Belland heard an almost imperceptible crackle and noticed that steam had stopped rising from his untouched tea. He also saw Erling’s eyes flash briefly to the Snow Queen, then away again.

Barely a decade older than her, Erling wasn’t simply the youngest advisor present—he was the youngest person in Arendellian history to sit on the privy council. None could say he had merely inherited the seat, either, because Hakon had only been a babe when his father died. He wouldn’t have any memories of his father’s work, but Belland did. He’d watched the boy grow up and could say without bias that Hakon Erling was a prodigy who had unerringly earned his place as the youngest head of trade and foreign relations.

The only problem was that in the last few months, Erling seemed to think that made him untouchable.

It was Mikkel Davidsen, a mountain bear of a man who defied all expectations of what a treasurer and bookkeeper should look like, who growled, “Erling,  _ you _ are the one who forgets himself.”

Erling’s cool gaze switched targets. “What I haven’t forgotten is my job. What use does the queen have for an advisor who speaks only what she wants to hear?”

“It is not up to  _ you _ to presume the queen’s wants.”

Queen Anna slammed both hands on the table so hard the teacups rattled in their saucers. “Gentlemen! Can we please shelve this debate over my clumsiness till we don’t have a flock of refugees shivering on our dock?”

_ There she is, _ Belland thought to himself.

For the first time since the meeting began, he spoke up. “We do not know that they are necessarily refugees, Your Majesty.”

“We do. They are.” Queen Anna grimaced. “We received a… letter. From the king of the Southern Isles—well, the new king.”

“King Johan is dead?” Harald Fisker, the minister of agriculture, ran a hand over his salt and pepper beard. “Forgive my callousness, ma’am, but to that I say good riddance. The man was a tyrant.”

Princess Elsa motioned to the chamberlain, who drew a crinkled parchment from his jacket and handed it to her. She slid it across the table. “This letter only just arrived, but we think it is safe to assume that King Johan passed away weeks ago. Prince Caleb is now king of the Southern Isles.”

“Then surely the bloated bodies of his people in our fjord aren’t his idea of inviting our queen to his coronation.”

The queen in question flinched. Some of her drink spilled onto the table, which the chamberlain immediately mopped up.

“Fisker, you speak too coarsely,” berated Davidsen.

Like the rest of the village, Belland and the other councillors had been roused by the commotion and had been present at the dock, which had buzzed and bustled with the wrong energy. Frantic movement next to holes of eerie stillness. Sobs and urgent voices in place of friendly banter between fishermen as they sorted their day’s catch. And, like the rest of the people, the councillors had seen the ice, the water, the snowflake in the sky. But they had seen all that many times in three years.

What they hadn’t witnessed before was their usually boisterous queen slumped amid her sister’s magic, sobbing in front of the entire kingdom.

“It’s fine,” the queen said, with a voice and face that indicated the opposite. “Kristoff and General Mattias are looking after them right now. One of the people we saved—he told me there were six boats.”

“That all sank at the same time?” Davidsen said with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t we think that seems rather suspicious?” Roys and Fisker murmured their agreement.

“It’s a treacherous five-day journey across the North Sea,” Princess Elsa pointed out. “These people rowed in overloaded fishing boats with nothing but the clothes on their back. It’s a miracle they made it as far as they did.”

“Perhaps that is just what they want us to think.”

Queen Anna stared at Erling. “Excuse me? There are... people are  _ dead _ . “

“No one is refuting that, ma’am. I only question—”

She shook her head sharply. “I saw a boy half my age who nearly drowned because he refused to let go of his sister’s body. I saw people shivering so badly that it took five of them to hold one torch still. I saw parents holding babies who weren’t crying. Why don’t you go and ask them what they wanted us to  _ think _ ?”

Erling’s eyes narrowed. But he bowed his head in acquiescence.

The queen swallowed and visibly gathered herself. “Look, we can suspect them after we help them. Our first priority is preparing hot food and collecting enough bedrolls that they’ll be comfortable in the Great Hall tonight. We can question them once they’ve had time to recover.”

There was a long pause.

Finally, Fisker ventured, “The Great Hall? Your Majesty means to let them into the castle?”

“Of course. We have plenty of space.”

Davidsen shifted his great body in his too-small seat. “They are from the Southern Isles, ma’am. With whom we do not have a—”

“Good relationship? Trust me, I know,” the queen said dryly. “But the only similarities between these people and Hans are where they came from, and that they both ended up in our fjord at some point.  _ They _ didn’t try to marry me or kill my sister. Why shouldn’t we help them?”

“I’m not suggesting that we shouldn’t, Your Majesty, but to trust them in the castle? That is like inviting a snake into your home. It is not a good image.”

Before the queen could shoot back a response, Princess Elsa answered calmly, “If you believe that a kingdom’s people should pay for the mistakes of their royal family, then I clearly haven’t made enough amends over these past three years.”

Davidsen and Fisker instantly went mute.

_ Well played _ , Belland mused, thumbing the ivory head of his cane.

Queen Anna looked up worriedly at her sister, who only smiled and nudged her half-finished hot cocoa towards her. The queen drank deeply once more. When she resurfaced, her expression was resolute. “We’re letting them in. We’re a kingdom of plenty. What does it say about us if we don’t stand for the good and the many?”

Only Roys nodded back.

Belland reached for the Southern Isles missive sitting on the table and smoothed out its curious state of dishevelment.

“Very well, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” Davidsen was saying. “But that still begs the question: what were these ‘refugees’ taking refuge from?”

The queen and princess shared a look.

“Apparently, Caleb’s brothers aren’t happy that he’s king. Elsa and I talked to some refugees before we came. It sounds bad. Their army and people have been split; it’s a full-blown coup.”

“ _ Another _ civil war,” Fisker tutted. “Why do those Westergaards insist on reproducing like rabbits if history has never seen them properly get along?”

“But King Caleb’s claim to the throne is unquestionable. He is the firstborn and their father’s legitimate heir.” Roys blinked as a thought occurred to her. “Unless... he’s not?”

Erling barked out a laugh. “Caleb, illegitimate? Good luck with that. He is the spitting image of Johan, only fifty pounds lighter and thrice as mean.”

“There is something else.” Princess Elsa paused, clasping her hands. “We heard rumours that King Johan didn’t die of sickness… or accident.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Roys said dumbly.

Fisker crowed, “What did I say about them not getting along? Regicide  _ and _ patricide!”

“I can see the truth in that,” Erling said in a disaffected tone, drumming the table. “King Johan wasn’t adored by his people but even compared to him, Caleb’s methods have always been more bandit than prince. Spoiled completely rotten. I haven’t visited the Isles since we cut ties with them, but I can imagine Caleb’s only gotten worse. If Johan was killed for trying to reel him in, it’s his own fault for not doing so earlier.”

He shrugged. “Then again, I suspect his brothers would’ve gone after him, even if he’d turned out to be the Lord’s chosen one. Like Harald said, there’s no love lost between the Westergaard baker’s dozen. With their father gone, it’s now free game.”

Davidsen rotated his neck with a loud crack, and scoffed, “In that case, let them hack and slash it out between themselves. We only need to sit back and see who’s the last one standing. It was conceited enough for this King Caleb to write to our queen about his kingdom’s self-invited problems.”

“He wants Arendelle’s support.”

The other councillors swivelled and stared at Belland. He held up the letter.

Fisker burst into incredulous laughter. “That is some gall! Asking us for help after what his brother attempted three years ago.”

“He’s not asking. He would like the queen to bolster his forces as a ‘token of good faith’. If we refuse, he promises to take Arendelle’s desertion as an insult.”

“‘ _ Good faith’ _ ?” Davidsen nearly roared. “What a madman!”

“There’s more,” Princess Elsa said. She nodded at Belland.

“‘ _ Should you refuse my call for aid, I will have no choice but to assume that your kingdom is aiding and abetting one of my treasonous brothers. When my throne is secure once more, rest assured, Arendelle will come to know the full force of my retribution. I look forward to a fruitful alliance between our kingdoms. _ ’”

A long silence dragged out.

“Madman,” Davidsen repeated, this time in a hiss.

“This is… it is blackmail!” Fisker sounded disgusted. “How deluded must he be to think that he has the upper hand?”

“The thing is,” Queen Anna said slowly, “he kind of does.”

“Your Majesty?”

She smiled spiritlessly at Erling. “Hey, Hakon. Now’s a good time to tell me I’m wrong.”

Belland arched an eyebrow at the familiarity. Until he remembered that when then-Princess Anna had been appointed Arendelle’s official ambassador, she and Erling had often crossed paths as dignitaries. The trips they’d taken together had raised gossip of the princess one day realising that Erling was a more suitable match than that mountain man of hers. Yet the two of them had only remained close friends, and despite Erling’s recent prickliness, it appeared that Queen Anna hadn’t forgotten that.

Erling’s hard expression twitched with the hint of a smile. Then he was business-like once more. “Unfortunately, Your Majesty is correct. It would not bode well for Arendelle to come under attack from the Southern Isles. Theirs is a kingdom of great military strength.”

“That sounds like an exaggeration.” Roys pulled at a loose thread on her nightgown, trying and failing to conceal her rising anxiety. “I know they are wealthy, but at the end of the day, they are just seven islands in the middle of the sea with inhospitable wind and terrain.”

“There is danger in that underestimation,” Erling said. “Do we all know what the Southern Isles’ primary exports are?”

“Fish,” Fisker answered immediately.

“That shiny black rock unique to their islands, for jewellery and statues,” Davidsen offered.

“There’s one more.”

“Mercenaries,” the queen and princess said simultaneously. They looked at each other.  _ Jinx _ , the younger one mouthed.

“I don’t follow,” Roys said. “Fish, rocks… and mercenaries?”

“Compulsory conscription,” Erling explained impatiently. “In times of peace, the king holds onto his main army and loans men in his reserves to any who can pay. Technically, they are not ‘mercenaries’ since they still belong to the Southern Isles army, bound to their second employer by contract but owing first allegiance to their king.”

“That sounds like a risky arrangement to buy into.”

“Yet it gives these so-called mercenaries credibility. They can’t turn on their employers or have their loyalties bought off, which is always a problem with freelancers. Well-trained, disciplined soldiers fetch a high price, especially those willing to do the dirty work. Even before you factor in that the Southern Isles’ military program ranks among the toughest in Scandinavia.”

“It’s a really smart move if you think about it,” the queen said grudgingly. “Fewer mouths to feed, no overpopulation,  _ and _ money to be made out of it. It also builds relationships and makes bigger nations think twice about attacking when there are probably Southern Isles soldiers in their own countries. Which the king can summon from all over the world.”

“You sound like you admire them, ma’am,” Belland observed.

“Well, it is a neat strategy. But to think that one third of their economy depends on violence, and that it’s somehow  _ normal _ for them?” Queen Anna shivered. “It’s terrifying.” Belatedly, she seemed to realise Belland’s implication and stared at him in horror. “I-I’m not saying we should try it in Arendelle!”

Belland inclined his head, sensing the Snow Queen watching him.

“If Caleb called all his forces back, they would not only outnumber us,” Erling went on, reaching for the sugar pot, “their soldiers will be ready to fight, no matter where they come from. Whereas it has been thirty-four years since Arendelle has seen a proper battle. Even without the numbers, the south has the experience. We may have a strong defensive position, but if our navy were to meet theirs in the North Sea…” He dropped a sugar cube into his tea. “It should only be to ensure a safe evacuation of the royal family.”

The queen bit her lip, but didn’t say anything.

“Are you saying,” Fisker said incredulously, “that we have no choice but to  _ submit _ to these preposterous demands?”

It did not escape Belland’s notice that in the councillor’s moment of trepidation, he looked to the Snow Queen.

She shook her head. “No. Anna and I both agree that Arendelle’s forces should remain here. We can’t rely on King Caleb behaving logically or honourably. He may turn around and attack us regardless of our aid.”

“Then our defence will be even weaker because half our men went to fight and die for someone else’s  _ stupid  _ war.” The queen squeezed her eyes shut. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

There it was.

“You have nothing to apologise for, ma’am,” Roys said quickly.

“It is late,” Davidsen added, his gruff voice softening. “Her Majesty is exhausted and needs rest.”

The queen threw up her hands and let out a loud huff. “No—what I need is to get on a ship and offer my own  _ ‘fruitful alliance’ _ between Caleb’s face and my knuckles.”

“ _ Anna _ ,” Princess Elsa chided while hiding an obvious smile.

“Just admit it, sis—you loved watching me deck Hans. And I’ve definitely gotten stronger after all those hiking trips with Kristoff. From the right angle, I reckon I could knock Caleb to Spain.”

“There is another option,” Erling said.

“Fine.  _ Russia _ .”

“… To defend Arendelle, ma’am.”

She perked up. “There is?”

“King Caleb kindly suggested it himself.”

It took only a moment for Belland to understand. “‘ _ I will have no choice but to assume that your kingdom is aiding and abetting one of my treasonous brothers’. _ ”

“Exactly. Why be hunted when we could become the hunter? At this stage, there are three positive outcomes: Caleb bluffing, Caleb losing too many soldiers to march on Arendelle, or Caleb losing the Southern Isles altogether.” He looked around the table. “We can guarantee two of those three simply by lending our support to his opposition.”

“You’re suggesting that we back his brothers,” Roys deduced.

“No,” the queen said immediately. Her smile had vanished. She looked to her sister for agreement, but the Snow Queen’s attention was fixed on Erling, her brow furrowed, lips pursed. Queen Anna turned back at Erling and said, more firmly, “ _ No _ .”

“If I may elaborate, Your Majesty—I have met all the Westergaard princes. Most of them are no better than Caleb; I daresay a handful are actually worse and could be working with him. But I can think of some who would appreciate our help in removing their father’s murderer and can be trusted to keep their word.”

“What, because a man who kills his own brother is somehow more trustworthy than the one who killed his father? If we help  _ any _ of them, they could still turn around and attack us. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Caleb only threatens war because of pride; he cannot stomach defeat so he uses underhanded measures. Pride cannot be reasoned with, but the new king would be a fool to—”

The queen’s voice rose. “ _ We _ would be the fools to believe that any prince on those miserable islands with a line of succession all the way to Antarctica  _ wouldn’t _ want to invade a lush, prosperous kingdom while its army is away! With or without pride.”

“That is why we bind them to a new alliance—”

“Oh, wonderful—because our  _ old _ alliance did such a fantastic job discouraging Hans from trying to steal the kingdom, didn’t it?”

Erling’s eyes flashed. “Perhaps he would not have been half as successful if our crown princess hadn’t named him  _ regent _ without consulting anyone, and run off to climb a mountain with no guards or foresight!”

Roys gasped. Davidsen shoved his seat back, face red as a bull’s.

But it was Queen Anna who shot to her feet first, glaring at Erling as if they weren’t queen and councillor quarrelling in front of an audience like siblings. “You know what? That  _ was _ stupid of me. How many times do you want me to admit it? I panicked and left Arendelle vulnerable in the hands of someone I’d just met that day. But I didn’t know  _ you _ yet, did I? And now that I do, Hakon, I’m glad I  _ couldn’t _ leave you in charge, because the way you’ve been acting lately, Elsa and I might have come back to the kingdom already in the middle of a war  _ you  _ keep trying to drag us into.”

Erling stood, too, cheeks flushed. He was not a particularly tall man and stood eye to eye with the queen, a table of stunned councillors caught between them. “And what would you have us do,  _ Your Majesty? _ Pray day and night for Caleb’s clemency? Pretend you never got his letter? You are supposed to be the queen of—”

“So you haven’t forgotten.”

The Snow Queen spoke softly, but her words commanded the room in an instant. Everyone’s attention had been so focused on Queen Anna and Erling that no one had paid attention to Princess Elsa’s silence. Or the frost that had fogged up the chamber’s windows.

Her gaze bore down on Erling, cerulean eyes glinting like shards of ice. “I worried for a moment that you had forgotten she is your queen, Councillor.”

Impressively, Erling didn’t recoil from her glacial tone. He pulled at his collar and straightened his shirt. “If I had forgotten that, Your Highness, I would not be trying to offer her my counsel.”

“I seem to recall you offering me counsel in a very different manner.”

“That is because Your Highness did not refuse to listen to sound advice out of a prejudice born from her own naïve mistake.”

Only after the words had left his mouth, did Erling seem to realise he had gone too far. But it was too late.

Very quietly, the Snow Queen said, “I trust you remember which of  _ my _ mistakes sent Anna up the North Mountain, Councillor.”

Belland watched Erling’s neck twitch as he swallowed. Despite the drastic drop in temperature, he was the only one whose breath rose in white puffs before his face. When it became apparent that not answering was not an option, he muttered, “I do, Your Highness.”

“Then I hope you will also remember what it looks like when I am in control. I suggest you excuse yourself from this meeting, Councillor Erling. If your queen will allow it.”

Erling clenched his jaw and seemed to focus on a point over the queen’s shoulder. “Your Majesty,” he said stiffly. “May I take my leave?”

Queen Anna’s face showed everything. Anger had dominated most of the exchange, but now she stared at Erling with an emotion that, like an apology, most monarchs could not afford to show.  _ Hurt _ . She nodded wordlessly.

He left.

Princess Elsa let out a long breath. The frost had evaporated from the windows, but the high-ceilinged chamber did not regain its warmth. “Excuse me,” she murmured. “Kai, could you please add another log to the fire?”

The steward obliged, unfazed by the turn of events.

“Erling’s not been himself these past few months,” Davidsen grunted with a shake of his head. “But now I suspect he’s lost his mind.”

The queen was quiet, her confused gaze caught on Erling’s empty chair. Her sister squeezed her shoulder gently.

“Sorry, I—” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I haven’t asked what everyone else thinks of Caleb’s letter.”

With Erling gone, the ministers of education, agriculture, and the treasury all turned to Belland. The legal advisor who had scarcely spoken so far.

He folded his hands over his cane and met the queen’s expectant gaze. “We do not have to worry about King Caleb while his full attention is on the coup. It may last months. This gives us time to contact our allies and inform them of the situation. It would be wise to gain a better grasp of the conflict’s scope before acting.”

The queen nodded back, visibly relieved. “Thank you, Councillor Belland. We shall do that.”

“The refugees, however, require more immediate attention. Your Majesty’s mind remains unchanged on the matter of taking them in?”

Dishevelled and young, the queen did not look like a queen. She did not speak like a queen. She barely thought like a queen. But when she said simply, “It’s the right thing to do,” no one thought to question her.

_ More, _ thought Belland. He needed to see more.

* * *

The moment the chamber doors closed behind Kai and the councillors, Elsa turned to Anna and they both asked at the same time: “Are you okay?”

They traded weary smiles. Anna chuckled, “Jinx again?”

Elsa held out her hand. “Come on.”

She pulled Anna to the hearth and deposited her in an armchair before crossing over to put another log on the fire, summoning a small breeze to fan it. When she turned around, Anna had wrapped her arms around her legs and was watching with a goofy smile that made Elsa laugh. “What?”

“Do you have to make your own campfire in the Forest? Or do you just get Bruni to, like, sneeze?”

Her sister scooted over to make space on the chair, which was wide and deep-seated enough to fit both of them. “I’m not bothered by the cold, remember? You, though, are going to catch one. Your hands are freezing.”

Anna held out her hands and Elsa, wishing for the opposite of her powers, absentmindedly rubbed them. Neither of them spoke for a long while, listening to the crackling fire.

Elsa realised she was hoping the flames would flash violet.

Then Anna let out a hissed “Ow!” She pulled her right hand out of Elsa’s and squinted at her forefinger. “Is that a splinter?”

Elsa leaned over in alarm. “Where?”

“Probably from the boat. I was holding this oar so I could—”

“No, I meant—never mind, just let me see it.”

She wished she hadn’t asked. There was a horribly visible sliver lodged in Anna’s finger at such a shallow angle that nearly the entire length of it was submersed, creating a long and narrow shadow beneath the skin. Just seeing it made Elsa feel faint. “Don’t move,” she ordered tightly, crafting a pair of tweezers. Then, for safe measure, she made a magnifying glass and passed it to Anna. “Hold this for me.”

“How do you just  _ know _ how to make everything?” Anna pointed the glass at Elsa’s face. “And how on earth is your skin so clear?”

“Anna! Can we please focus on the inch-long splinter in your finger?”

“Oh, it’s not that bad. The one in my foot? Now  _ that  _ was an inch; it was practically a nail, actually. It was so silly. I was climbing a tree and my shoe—”

“ _ Stop. Moving _ .” Elsa peered at her sister’s finger, tweezer hovering uncertainly over the splinter’s dark tip. Were tweezers even the correct tool? What if she ended up pushing it even further in? What if part of it broke off and stayed embedded forever? What if it got infected?

Anna had craned her neck to see Elsa’s face and was now staring dumbfoundedly at her with what Kristoff called her ‘lightbulb eyes’. “Um, Elsa? Have you never gotten a splinter before?”

She failed to see how this was relevant when  _ there was a needle sticking out of her sister’s dominant hand. _ “I don’t climb trees. Now will you  _ please stay still _ ?”

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Anna cupped her free hand to her mouth, eyes swimming with laughter. “How have you never… in your  _ whole life _ ?”

“Why is that so surprising? It’s hardly a developmental milestone.” Elsa huffed and thrust the tweezers at her sister. “Would you like to use your ample experience to pull it out yourself?”

“Nah, I’m only good at getting the splinters in, not out. But it can’t be that hard; Mother used to just yank them out with her fingers.”

“But what if I hurt you?”

“God, Elsa, if you make me have  _ that _ conversation with you one more time, I swear I’ll tell the kitchen not to serve you dessert ever again.”

Elsa started to wonder if she’d left the kingdom in the hands of a tyrant. “All right… if you’re sure. But I still want you to hold the magnifying glass so I can see it better. And  _ tell me _ if it hurts.”

“It won’t,” Anna sang as she tucked her head into the crook of Elsa’s neck and obligingly held out the glass. Which swayed because she was clearly trying to make light trails on the wall.

Ignoring the white-hot pressure behind her eyes, Elsa brought the tweezers to Anna’s finger, rigid with concentration. “It really doesn’t hurt?” she murmured.

“No, the ice is numbing everything. Seriously, sis, it’s just a splinter. It’s not going to kill me.”

_ The docks swarmed with battered boats unloading drenched bodies that cried and called for each other, and some were as eerily still as the broken hull of her parents’ ship—but none of them was her little sister. Anna was nowhere to be seen, and it was impossible to tell if that was a good or bad thing. _

“Anna?”

“Mm?”

“Can you please keep talking?”

Her sister immediately raised her head. “What’s wrong?”

_ An ocean dripped from Kristoff’s clothes as he turned to her with a desperate look that seemed to say “Can’t you freeze the fjord or something?” _

“Elsa?”

“I’ll tell you later. I promise,” she added when Anna didn’t look satisfied. “Why don’t you talk to me about Councillor Erling? I don’t remember him being so confrontational.”

The mention of Hakon Erling soured Anna’s mood immediately. She flopped back against Elsa with a hefty sigh. “I don’t know. He’s been weird since the coronation. At first I thought he didn’t like that you abdicated, which I totally get because obviously you were fantastic at being queen.”

“Anna, please don’t—”

“I know, I know; shouldn’t compare two sides of the same bridge, right? But visitors always ask about you and I still get mail with your name on it. You can’t change that you were a great queen, Elsa—it’s a  _ good thing _ , so you’re not allowed to feel guilty. Anyway, I don’t think that’s why Hakon was strange. He wasn’t exactly respectful towards you, either.” Anna sighed again. “Can you believe we used to be friends?”

What Elsa couldn’t believe was that there even existed a person who could refuse Anna’s friendship after knowing her. Then she blinked. “I got it.”

“You figured out why Hakon’s being such a jerk?”

“No, I…” Elsa held up the tweezers. “I got it out.”

Anna stared at the splinter clenched at the end of the ice pincers, then down at her hand. And then she grinned at Elsa, just like she had when they learned that love would thaw. “I knew you could do it. I’m still telling Kristoff, though.”

“Tell me what?”

They both peered over the back of the armchair to see Kristoff shouldering through the door, both hands full with plates. Which he hastily raised above his head just in time to keep Anna from knocking them to the ground the same way she audibly knocked the wind out of him when she leapt up to tackle him. Elsa got a warm sense of déjà vu.

“Uh, Anna, it’s good to see you too, but could you—”

“I’m sorry I left you behind,” she mumbled into his broad chest. “I didn’t want to. Council meeting.”

“I know, you told me. And you didn’t leave me behind; you left me in charge. Big difference. Now, you should really—”

“You smell…” Anna sniffed him and recoiled. “ _ Really  _ bad!”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Kristoff looked over his wife’s head and rolled his eyes at Elsa.

She smiled back, shrugging.

“You need a shower. Like, right now. Elsa, can you do it?”

“I can only freeze the moisture and get him dry. If cleaning him were in my abilities, I would not have struggled so badly getting him and Sven into a bath for your birthday.”

“Trust me, drying down is way more useful.” Kristoff looked at Elsa. “You saved a lot of people from hypothermia and frostbite tonight.”

_ She could freeze the fjord, but she couldn’t simply  _ freeze  _ all the water. It wasn’t a matter of letting loose; she had to sculpt. But this wasn’t an ice rink, or a palace carved of symmetrical fractals. There was no geometry, no repeating patterns, no calculable vectors. She only knew that she needed to  _ raise  _ everything, everyone, without freezing or trapping them, still swimming and breathing, in the ice. Without being able to see them. And she knew, like she’d known when racing the flood to save Arendelle, that she couldn’t do it alone—because the ice was hers, but the water wasn’t. _

Anna peppered Kristoff with questions as he made his way to the hearth. “Are they in the Great Hall now? Do we need more physicians? I should go check on them.”

“Whoa, slow down,” he cut in. “We’re still trying to get them settled in. It’s practically the crack of dawn, and I bet neither of you have eaten since dinner. So you’re not going anywhere until these plates are clean.” He had brought sandwiches, cheese, and a pyramid of potato lefse.

Elsa didn’t feel hungry, but perhaps it was because her stomach felt so hollow it was past that point. She cast Kristoff a grateful smile. “I see you found the kitchen.” He chuckled sheepishly and made a shushing motion.

They ate on the floor in front of the fire. Cramming cheese into her mouth, Anna suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, Kristoff! I have to tell you this—can you believe Elsa’s  _ never _ had a splinter before? She completely freaked out when she found one in my finger earlier. It was hilarious.”

“ _ Another _ splinter? Did she get it out? How big was it? Did you rinse the wound? You should put honey on it to keep infection out.”

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Elsa told him, while Anna slapped a hand to her face and groaned, “What am I going to do with you two?”

Anna recounted the council meeting, using body language to make up for what she lacked in verbal intelligibility and sending bits of sandwich flying everywhere. When she reached the part involving Councillor Erling, Kristoff choked on a piece of ham.

“He said  _ what _ to you?”

Anna thumped his back with the force of a thunderclap. “I know! I was so shocked because he’s been grumpy for a while, but today he was just rude.”

“Which one is Erling again?”

“The short one with glasses. Round head? My height?”

“Oh,  _ him _ .” Kristoff tore off a massive chunk of sandwich with his teeth and chewed moodily. “Good. Never liked him.”

“Honey, you are expressly forbidden from punching him.”

“Fine. I’ll trip him in the corridor.”

“You don’t have to. Elsa already scared him off.”

“Did she do it  _ Sven-is-a-reindeer _ style?”

“Even better. She threatened to turn him into a popsicle.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Elsa said, shaking her head. “Either of you.”

From Kristoff, they learned that the surviving refugees were being transferred to the castle according to Anna’s orders. General Mattias had organised guards to supervise them and ordered extra patrols around the dock and lighthouses in case more boats turned up.

“How many survivors?”

“At the last count, nearly forty. The townspeople really helped. We got blankets and a change of clothes for everyone. There’s so much food coming in that the kitchen barely needs to cook anything.”

“How many didn’t…” Anna didn’t have to finish.

Kristoff put an arm around her and murmured, “Nineteen.”

_ When she dipped into that gentle river within her subconsciousness, the water didn’t answer her in a familiar thunder of hoofbeats. She waited and called and waited some more, but when no ripples stirred, she realised there was no choice but to do it on her own. _

“Do you need more ice?” Elsa asked quietly. She could tell from Kristoff’s expression that he understood what she meant.

“It’s fine. What we have should last through the night in this climate.”

It took several moments for Anna to catch on, and when she did her shoulders visibly drooped. She hugged her knees. “Where are we keeping them?” Then she answered her own question. “Oh. The dungeons.”

“It’s the only place no one goes that’s cold enough,” Kristoff said gently.

“Remind me to let the guards know the family can go down there if they want to… say goodbye.”

“All right.” Kristoff nodded and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “They told me to thank you. Both of you.”

_ Layer by layer, seabed to the surface; rising, rising. She could do it, could control it. Yet she felt the weight of the fjord stacking onto her ice like it was a physical pressure on her skull. The more water she shaved away, the more her head felt like it would burst. In the distance, she heard angry snorting. _

_ Where was Anna? _

A loud snore. Kristoff had nodded off with his head on the seat of the armchair behind him. 

Anna gingerly slipped out from under his arm, kissed his brow, and scooted around the food to join Elsa. “So much for that shower. We’ll need Sven to carry him to bed.”

“I think I can do it.”

“Are you sure about that? Because you don’t look like you could lift  _ me _ .”

“With my  _ powers _ , Anna,” Elsa said dryly. “I could make a sled. Or float him on a bed of snow.”

“Right. Of course. I’m pretty sure  _ I _ could lift  _ you _ , by the way.”

“Please don’t try.” Elsa nudged Anna with her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Her sister studied her wriggling toes. “I’ve been better. You?”

“Same.” She resisted the urge to massage her throbbing temples. “Would you like me to fix your hair?”

“Gosh, yes. I completely forgot about that. I lost my hair ribbons in the fjord, so I just made a knot. Do you think it’ll ever come out?”

“Let’s find out.” Elsa folded her legs to the side as Anna shuffled in front of her, giving her a cringeworthy view of the wild snarls in her sister’s hair. “I may actually prefer removing splinters to this,” she muttered as she pulled her fingers through the largest knot. After a while, though, it became oddly therapeutic. This, at least, she could fix.

“Guess what?” Anna said sleepily. “I just thought of something you’ve never needed magic to make.”

_ Mistakes. They thought she was making a mistake. _

Then Anna fell back against her, and Elsa could no longer see what she was untangling. Just her sister’s drowsy, contented smile as she said, “Better. You always make everything better.”

And despite her bone-deep fatigue and the nineteen strangers lying motionless on her ice in the dungeons below them, Elsa managed to choke out a laugh. Sometimes she forgot that even after those memories had been removed, her little sister had still spent thirteen years asking to build a snowman with her. Because, apparently, she’d never stopped believing that Elsa herself was magic.

Then Elsa’s head imploded.

_ She knew they were there; she could sense them. But they could also sense her and it was different; it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same. _

Anna became a blur of panic and concern. “Elsa? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… it’s just a headache.” Her eyes watered.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Do you need to lie down? Wait, is this what you wanted to tell me earlier?”

“No, I…” What could she say?

Anna watched her, biting her lip as a dozen emotions wrestled across her face. Then she visibly clamped down on every impulse and sighed, “Come lie down. No excuses.”

So Elsa found herself curled up on her side with her head in Anna’s lap and the fire warming her back. And when Anna rested her hand gently over Elsa’s eyes, the way their mother used to when one of them fell asleep on the picnic blanket, the storm that raged behind her eyelids eased into a light pattering of rain. It felt like all they needed now was their mother’s scarf. Then all would be right in the world once more.

“You should have told me you weren’t feeling well.” Anna sounded upset. “No wonder you were so quiet in the meeting.”

“I was quiet because you didn’t seem to need me.”

“I  _ did _ need you. I wanted to run out and cry at least four times. Maybe seven.”

“My sister needed me,” Elsa corrected. “But the queen didn’t. You were brilliant.”

“And you were scary. We did it together.”

_ Not this time. This time, she was on her own and it felt far, far more hollow than before. _

“Anna, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I tried to call the Nokk. To help the people in the water... but it didn’t answer me.”

Silence. Anna stopped stroking Elsa’s hair. When she shifted Anna’s hand away from her eyes, Elsa saw that her sister’s face was a mask of dread. Tears had sprung into her widened eyes. “Don’t tell me the Nokk… those boats…”

Elsa’s own horror rose. She sat up a little too quickly, head spinning. “No! That’s not—the Nokk had nothing to do with what happened. None of the spirits did. They are part of nature, but they don’t interfere with what is natural.”

“But Elsa, people were drowning. They were dying! How is that  _ natural?” _

And Elsa recalled what Anna had said in the meeting, about violence being a normal part of the Southern Isles’ economy. Something they wouldn’t think to be terrified of. “Anna… death is a part of nature, too.”

“I know that. I  _ know  _ that, but…” There was anguish in Anna’s voice. “How could they not  _ care?” _

_ Her sister was her own force of nature as she snapped, “But what if I  _ care  _ about not watching people die in front of my eyes?” and it cut through the mist like an answer she hadn’t realised she was searching for. But it also felt like a reminder, and that frightened her. _

“They know when not to interfere. So they don’t understand why  _ I _ did.” Elsa’s voice dropped to a whisper as the pounding in her head returned. “Because I’m supposed to be one of them.”

“But you’re not  _ like _ them, Elsa.” Anna’s warm hands held Elsa’s face still. Except she didn’t lean in to press their foreheads together. She didn’t say  _ You’re the bridge _ or even  _ You’re my sister _ . She looked directly at Elsa, tears still quivering on her eyelashes, and said with the fierceness of a rising sun—

“You’re human.”

_ Something was familiar, like an anchor dropped into the eye of the storm; and as she arrived back on the shores of her home, she realised she was no longer trembling. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it through this super long chapter! 
> 
> When I outlined the story, this chapter was not supposed to be this long or that dark and high-strung. I literally titled the last scene "de-stress" because much fluff was needed. As in, the splinter scene was just supposed to be Anna making another offhanded statement but Elsa could not have that.
> 
> My knowledge of history, politics and war strategies is dreadful so please forgive any inaccuracies in the dense council scene. I just wanted to explain that things were Not Good and 4000 words ran away from me. I also tried to incorporate as much canon into the Southern Isles using material from the Disney novel 'A Frozen Heart'. Everything else was creative license.


	3. Is Something Coming?

She didn’t know she was doing it until General Mattias materialised over her shoulder and announced, “Your Highness. We’re ready.”

“Oh!” The glowing images froze mid-dance and plummeted over the dock’s railing. Elsa winced as ice splashed into the fjord she had just thawed. “Excuse me. I’m coming.”

There were shadows under Mattias’s eyes, but his smile was wide, his chuckle warm. “Didn’t mean to startle you, ma’am. Thirty-four years tiptoeing around sleeping Earth Giants—hard habit to break. Funny thing is, I grew up to my father yelling, ‘Destin! This house can’t take much more of you walking like a troll!’”

“Then perhaps you’ll be glad to learn that trolls don’t walk. They roll.”

“Hey, that’s a good one!” When Elsa’s polite smile remained unchanged, Mattias peered sceptically at her. “… Are you telling me you’ve seen  _ real _ trolls, Your Highness?”

She lifted her shoulder in a small shrug. “Kristoff was adopted and raised in the Valley of the Living Rock; so for all intents and purposes, the trolls are my sister’s in-laws. They held another wedding for Kristoff and Anna following their customs; in fact, Anna told me it was their second time. I decided not to ask. Oh—you may be interested to learn that the trolls pride themselves as ‘love experts’. Though from what Anna tells me, General, you and Halima don’t appear to need any help in that department.”

Mattias turned scarlet. “I-I don’t know if we should call it  _ love _ —not that I don’t, um,  _ you know _ , but I don’t know how I’m doing so far and it’s inappropriate for me to presume that we’re in some sort of… r-reciprocation without Halima’s consent—”

Unable to hold her laughter in any longer, Elsa placed a hand on Mattias’s forearm. “Forgive me; I’m only teasing you, General.”

“Oh, thank—”

“Though I assure you, everything I said about the trolls is true.”

“… Ah.” Mattias shook his head, muttering, “Love expert  _ trolls _ as the royal in-laws. You know what’s really insane? That’s not even in the top five of craziest things I’ve heard in my life.”

“That may be a side effect of spending too much time around Anna.” Elsa tilted her head towards the guards clustered further down the dock. “Shall we?”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Mattias didn’t seem to realise he had automatically offered Elsa his arm until she bemusedly raised an eyebrow. His flush returned in full force. “Sorry, definitely too much time around Anna— _ Queen _ Anna, I mean… I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?”

Anna would have happily put her arm through Mattias’s and skipped along the dock. Elsa and their mother used to enter the study to find Anna straddling the king’s shoulders while he completed his paperwork, giggling hysterically each time he leaned forward to dip his quill in the inkwell. Yet no matter how willing their father had been to entertain Anna behind closed doors, both girls had understood that in the public eye, he was King of Arendelle first and their Papa second. It meant that they were allowed to hold his gloved hand, but not too tightly in case he needed to greet someone. It meant going to Mama if their legs got tired, because if Papa carried them he was likely to get caught up in another lengthy discussion, and it was bad manners to drool on the king.

There was no questioning their father’s love for them. But while Elsa had seen him walk through the castle arm-in-arm with Anna, she knew their father would never have allowed himself to skip alongside her the way Mattias could sometimes be caught doing, his and Anna’s deep-bellied laughter rising infectiously. Elsa liked to think that Mattias had once made their father laugh like that, too.

She discreetly slipped her arm through his. At first, Mattias seemed frozen in shock. Then he positively beamed down at her. She returned it with a small, shy smile.

“Your magic is exquisite, by the way,” he said as they began walking. “I don’t know if I’ve told you that before.”

“Thank you. I realise I haven’t properly apologised for the way you first encountered my powers.”

“My buttocks hold no grudge. Anna was the one recklessly swinging around that ice sword like she couldn’t tell one end from the other. But let me tell you—the first time our gutsy queen gate-crashed a training session and showed us what she could do with a real sword?” Mattias chuckled. “I kid you not, I silently thanked your ice for tripping us that day. I would have underestimated her so badly she might have disarmed me and thought, ‘ _ Well, definitely not promoting  _ this one  _ to general when we get out of here! _ ’”

Elsa wasn’t at all surprised to hear praise for Anna’s swordsmanship, but something else had her canting her head to one side. “‘The first time’?”

Mattias blinked, then hastily backpedalled. “All the weapons are blunted, of course! And the boys know better than to knock down the queen… though really, we’d all feel a lot better if she’d let us put her in protective gear…”

“I’m not worried about her, General,” Elsa assured. “No more than usual, in any case. I’m only happy to hear she’s still able to find time for her hobbies. If anything, I’m concerned for your men. Anna grew up hitting dummies and sparring with the same three guards, since they were the only ones willing to teach her despite Father allowing it. I can only imagine her enthusiasm now that she has you at her disposal; she wouldn’t like your men going easy on her.”

Mattias coughed to one side and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “stomped on their feet.”

“Thank you, General Mattias. For looking after Anna.”

“It’s my duty and honour to protect the queen, ma’am.”

“She is a lot more than the queen to me—and, I suspect, to you as well.”

He dipped his head, giving her only a glimpse of a fond smile. “What can I say? She’s a special one, your sister.”

“I know.”

A refreshing breeze swept over the fjord, rustling her hair and dress. Elsa tilted her head back and inhaling deeply. It was unexpectedly pleasant, allowing Mattias to guide her. When she was out with Anna, Elsa could hardly admire their surroundings since her vigilance was often the only thing preventing her sister from walking them straight into a flagpole.

When was the last time she had walked the streets by herself and simply enjoyed Arendelle?

“Missing the Forest?”

Wrenched back to reality, Elsa blinked at Mattias.

“I recognised it in your pretty light show earlier,” he added quickly. “And honestly, even after spending half my life trying to get out of that place—I don’t blame you. It sure didn’t feel like it at the time, but learning to live alongside Yelana’s people, separated from the outside world? Protected from terrible things like people jumping into the sea to get away from war in their own homes?” He shook his head. “It was actually a blessing in disguise.”

They had reached the end of the boardwalk, where what was left of the six Southern Isles’ boats had been towed up the slipway and lined up like unwanted seaweed scraped off the bottom of a fisherman’s net.

“And yet the mist did a far better job than I have in protecting them,” Elsa murmured.

Mattias followed her gaze to where Ryder stood, chatting to his reindeers as he unhooked them from the sleds that had been used to retrieve the boats. Ryder spotted them and waved energetically.

Waving back, Mattias leaned towards Elsa and whispered, “He has no idea what he just helped us with, does it?”

“No… he and Honeymaren just happened to arrive this morning to trade at the market. He saw me and Sven on our way down, and I didn’t get to explain  _ why _ we were getting the boats off the fjord before he started putting the harnesses back on his reindeers.” Elsa sighed. “His help saved us a lot of time and labour but… I feel awful for getting him involved like this.”

“He would have found out sooner or later, Your Highness. The entire village is talking about it. I can guarantee Honeymaren will have heard by now.”

“I know. But Ryder is different.”

Mattias grimaced. “Yeah. I know what you mean. The kid still can’t get over the fact that he can look up anytime and see a clear sky above him.”

“He sings songs about the stars. He made up his own names for the constellations after I pointed them out to him one night.”

“That’s cute. Does he talk to them, too?”

“Most nights.”

“Does he, uh, hear them talk back to him?”

Elsa winced. “Yes.”

“Oh, boy. Odin have mercy on us for dragging this innocent lamb into the land of wolves.”

“This is my fault. I should have…”

“What should we  _ not _ have done, Your Highness?” Mattias questioned solemnly. “Not freed the Forest? Not welcomed them into Arendelle and introduced them to our people? Should we have told Ryder and Honeymaren, who grew up without knowing the moon’s smile, to stay away from this world they’re so curious to discover, because there’s a chance it’ll break them before it welcomes them?”

“What we should never have done,” Elsa said quietly, “was attack them.”

There was a pause as their eyes met. Then Mattias nodded in weary agreement. “Aye.” He nodded again, this time towards the broken boats. “And nineteen people should never have died trying to flee their own homes. Yet there are forty others who are not only alive, but fed, clothed, and eating breakfast in a castle. Meanwhile, Ryder, a Northuldra, lent his reindeers to Arendellian soldiers without asking questions, and everything handmade in his sister’s stall sells out before lunchtime. It was my generation that put Arendelle on the wrong side of history, Princess Elsa. But yours is the one that’s rewriting the future.”

With that, Mattias winked at her, stepped away from her towards his men, and boomed out, “Form up, boys! Let’s see what we’ve found.”

Elsa watched the guards salute Mattias and thought to herself that he was wrong: Anna would have promoted him to general no matter what had happened in the Forest.

If not for Mattias, they might not have found the refugees’ boats. After everyone had been settled in the Great Hall, he had led volunteers back onto the fjord to retrieve the rescue boats so they would not be left stranded when the ice receded. Then he’d taken Sven and ridden further out to ensure that no one had been left behind. And it was out there, at the point of turning back, that they had come across the Southern Isles boats. They, too, had been inadvertently dredged up by Elsa’s ice, but were too far and fragile to be retrieved in the dark without returning with more men and sleds.

It wasn’t until that morning, when she had stood on the dock watching Sven and Ryder’s reindeers grow smaller and smaller in the distance, that Elsa had comprehended just how far the refugees had swum in the icy waters. Yet some part of her still clung to the hope that the night’s events had been a dream. The screaming and crying. The sight of shivering people ripping free of warm blankets to throw themselves over the bodies of those too far gone to feel the cold. Her sister clutching her, sinking to her knees as she sobbed uncontrollably.

But then there was the silence only Elsa could hear, reminding her that the night had been very, very real. Reminding her of what she had done.

_ You’re human. _

Something bumped into her back, making her stagger forward.

Elsa looked over her shoulder, already smiling. “Sven. Thank you for your hard work.”

He sniffed her face, drawing out soft laughter. “Yes, of course I had Gerda set aside the juiciest-looking carrots for you.”

Sven brayed his approval and pushed his head under her hand. Elsa scratched his ears, the tension draining from her shoulders as she momentarily lost herself in the simplicity of making another happy.

“I see a reindeer whisperer in the making.”

Elsa looked up to see Ryder winding a rope around one arm as he approached. “Thank you as well, Ryder. Sven would have had to make a lot more trips otherwise. We’ll make sure your reindeer are rested and fed at the stables.”

“Don’t mention it; they love a good run. Just maybe check there aren’t any random boats stuck out there next time you freeze the whole fjord, eh?”

“Ryder, about that—”

“Ooh, before I forget—are you planning to come back soon? Honeymaren and I are staying overnight and heading back tomorrow morning if you want to join us.”

“I… thank you for thinking of me. But I can’t leave right now. There are a lot of—things happening in Arendelle.”

Ryder draped the coiled rope on Sven’s antlers and leaned against the reindeer. “Oh, cool. Like a festival? I love festivals!”

“Actually—”

“Look, it’s Queen Elsa!” an excited voice called from above.

“Shh! We’re supposed to call her ‘Princess Elsa’ now.”

“So? She’s still the Snow Queen!”

Two children skipped down the stone steps and ran across the dock towards Elsa. She fumbled desperately for their names right up until they skidded to a panting halt in front of her, flashing identical gap-toothed grins. “Arn and Sara? My goodness, you’ve both grown so much. I almost didn’t recognise you.”

“We recognised  _ you _ real easy,” boasted Arn, only to be cuffed by his older sister.

“It’s ‘really easily _ ’ _ , you goof!”

Ignoring Sara, Arn grinned up at Elsa. “Can we pretty please go ice-skating on the fjord? We didn’t get to skate at all this winter.”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve just thawed the ice since General Mattias and his men have finished working on it.”

“Aww, can’t you just freeze it again? Pa said the fjord’s ice wasn’t strong enough to skate on because those big trading ships keep cutting through it, and now it’s all melted away, and if you’re not here, we’ll have to wait until next year. Pa says only your ice is safe.”

“Her ice isn’t just the safest, silly—it’s the  _ strongest _ . Remember how she saved Arendelle from that big flood? And how she saved everyone last night, too?”

The dull twinge at the base of Elsa’s skull reignited mercilessly. Four fitful hours of sleep with Anna and Kristoff snoring in tandem had not equipped her for this type of conversation. And yet.

Gathering her dress around her, Elsa crouched down to Arn’s level and took Sara’s hand. “Not everyone,” she corrected gently. “That’s why we can’t skate on the fjord today. We must pay our respects to those who lost their lives in the water.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ryder look at the broken boats, then back at her.

“But,” Elsa went on, squeezing the children’s hands, “many people are okay. They’re safe and warm. Do you know why?”

“Ma said your ice saved them from drowning.”

Elsa shook her head. “Do you know what Queen Anna and Prince Kristoff did when they realised someone was in trouble? They jumped into the water themselves. They didn’t hesitate to be brave, and everyone responded to that. Brave Arendellians like your father rowed out to help people out of the water long before I arrived. Your mother gave them blankets, clothes, and food. It wasn’t me who saved those people; it was all of Arendelle. Everyone helped.”

She took Arn by the shoulders and turned him around. “Just like how my friend, Ryder, helped General Mattias get these boats off the fjord. Why don’t we thank him for letting us borrow his reindeer?”

_ You’re welcome _ , Ryder mouthed to her. She only had time to return a grateful smile before Arn was on top of him, shouting that he was awesome and strong but probably not strong enough to beat Kristoff, and could he pretty please get a ride on Mr. Sven?

“ _ Only if you ask nicely and don’t pull my antlers _ . Also, I could ab-so-lute-ly beat Kristoff in an arm wrestle. I’ll show you!”

Sara bit her lip as she watched Ryder toss her giggling brother over one shoulder. Then she turned to Elsa and blurted, “Pa says you like being in the Enchanted Forest more than Arendelle. Is that true?”

She heard Mattias and Ryder asking if she missed the Forest, and when she would return. She heard Anna wondering with forced nonchalance how long she would stay in Arendelle.

What she still couldn’t hear were the other spirits.

“Your Highness?” Mattias called. “Can you please come and look at this?”

Her head throbbed.

“Give me a minute, please,” Elsa called back. Then she smiled at Sara. “Both Arendelle and the Forest are my homes.”

“How can you have two homes?”

“Because it helps me feel whole, and that makes me happy. I can’t choose between them, sweetheart.”

“But what if you had to?”

“Hey, Sara! Look at me!” Ryder had taught Arn how to lounge backwards on Sven without falling off.

Sara’s face lit up, and she looked pleadingly at Elsa, all else forgotten. “Go on,” Elsa encouraged, rising to her feet. Fearing that she would only see the ground splitting beneath her if she looked down.

“Every time we’re out in town,” Mattias chuckled when Elsa reached him, “there will always be at least one kid asking Anna if she can make them a toy. So she’s always got a stash of paper somewhere, ready to fold them an animal instead. She’s not letting you outshine her.”

“Anna is very talented at papercraft,” she agreed. “Have you discovered something about the boats?”

With that, Mattias’s humour evaporated, and Elsa’s heart sank.

“Well. The good news is we have a rough idea of how the refugees all ended up overboard at the same time. I’m sure Your Highness knows that the fjord freezes every winter. Most of the ice melted last week, but there are still sheets of it floating in the water. My guess is that they rowed as far as they could until it became impossible to get past what was left.”

“Then they tried to cross the ice floes on foot,” Elsa murmured, horrified by the desperation that must have driven sixty people to brave the water instead of waiting for the ice to melt further. How many of them had slipped and become trapped underneath? “So we may have found the boats regardless of my ice.”

“No, they still sank.” Mattias looked like he was nursing a migraine of his own. “It might be easier to show you, ma’am. If you’ll follow me.”

The men parted for them, bowing to Elsa. She nodded back. Then she was standing in front of a boat bearing the Southern Isles’s emblem on its bow.

“Any thoughts?”

The first thing she noticed was that it listed to one side. Arendellian fishing boats sat flat on the ground thanks to their broad, flat-bottomed hulls designed for skimming shallow waters. The Southern Isles’ boat, however, had a deep, wedge-shaped hull indicating it had been built to weather choppy, open water. This was hardly unusual, since the Isles did sit in the middle of the sea, but Elsa’s narrowed gaze continued roving over the vessel, trying to pinpoint why it unsettled her so much.

“The shape. It’s too narrow for a fishing boat.”

Mattias nodded. “Not a lot of room for equipment; I reckon hauling up a full net would capsize the whole thing. No fisherman worth his salt would try to make a living in this toothpick of a boat.” He glanced sideways at Elsa. “But we do have Arendellian boats similar to this. In the navy.”

It dawned on her immediately. “Scout boats. They’re built for speed and stealth.”

“Very good, Your Highness. These boats look like they came from the Southern Isles’ fleet. Of course, I’m not saying these poor folk are spies; they would have done a better job planning their survival if that was the case. You only have to look at them—there are more women and elderly than able-bodied men.”

“They could be civilians simply jumping into whatever was available.”

“Exactly. But that’s not even the million kroner question. Or the bad news.” Mattias rounded to the other side and pointed at the wedged-shaped hull. “See this? All the other boats are in the same condition.”

Four gaping holes very clearly allowed Elsa to see the boardwalk underneath.

“Damage like this should have sunk them long before they reached Arendelle. So how did they…”

Mattias cleared his throat. “Your Highness. In training, we were taught to scuttle a boat so it would sink whole, leaving nothing for the enemy to find. It—well, it looks a lot like this.”

Hakon Erling’s words resounded in her head:  _ Perhaps that is just what they wanted us to think. _

Had they refused to hear the reason behind that soulless statement?

Elsa frowned. “But why would they need to do that? They were practically at our doorstep and we are not their enemy. If they distrusted us so badly, why did they come here at all?”

“I don’t think it was  _ us _ they were trying to hide from, ma’am.” Mattias motioned for her to look more closely at the boats.

At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at—the only abnormalities that caught her eye were the numerous thin, wooden rods protruding from the top and sides of each boat, the ends frayed like they had been snapped off. Then she saw a flash of steel buried in wood.

_ Arrowheads. _

Elsa’s wide-eyed gaze snapped across the deceivingly tranquil fjord as it hit her like a tidal wave.

“They were being chased.”

* * *

“Oi.”

The weirdest part was that he’d only been down there once, and yet somehow the route was already ingrained in his memory. Just another of a hundred things he wished he could forget about last night.

“Hey, you.”

He probably shouldn’t have swiped three sandwiches. He was famished, yes, but so were the refugees; the maids were running marathons between the kitchen and Great Hall, struggling to put out enough food for forty people who seemed desperate to eat back every meal they had missed over five days at sea. And he really shouldn’t be giving his stomach any excuses to churn. Not that he  _ expected  _ to hurl. He’d already seen the worst of it, and of course he trusted Elsa’s ice to—

“Hey! Big guy with the funny shoes and bad hearing—are you ignoring me or what?”

Kristoff stopped walking and blinked down at his shoes. Then he looked over his shoulder. “Are you talking to me?”

There was a little boy doubled over behind him, hands planted on his knees as he panted like he had been running. He scowled at Kristoff. “Don’t see anyone else with shoes like a boat.”

And that was all it took.

“At least I  _ have _ shoes.”

The boy blinked.

Kristoff slapped a hand to his face. “Ah, shit—I mean damn—I mean…  _ argh _ . I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me. Please don’t cry.”

He’d thought the same old taunts couldn’t get to him by now. Too scrawny then suddenly too large and intimidating. His nose was too big. He smelled like his best friend, the reindeer, because he didn’t have any ‘proper’ friends. He didn’t know how to talk to people. He wasn’t royal enough. And now even a kid from across the sea thought his shoes looked like boats.

A barefoot little boy who, wearing a shirt three sizes too big and trousers that needed to be belted to his skinny waist, did not deserve to be reminded of  _ why _ he didn’t have clothes that fit him. Or shoes. No matter how badly Kristoff had slept.

Then he heard an incredulous snort. “What is there to cry about? You’re as weird as your shoes, mister.”

Okay. The boy was not crying. In fact, he didn’t even look upset. He was so young—what, eight years old? Nine? Did he even understand what was happening?

But then the boy raised his head and Kristoff saw the unmistakeable mark of age in his dark eyes. He understood everything, all right.

Kristoff scrubbed his hands over his face and put on a guilty smile. “Okay, tough cookie. How about we try this again? I’m walking down this corridor, and you say…”

“Oi.”

“… Right. So I turn around and say: ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were talking to me. What do you need?’” He pointed at the boy. “And now that’s your cue to say…”

“Show me around.” A pause. Then an impatient sigh. “Please. I’m bored.”

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. He had spent the morning helping forty people deal with their shock and grief in forty different ways. He’d comforted and listened and played requests on his lute. He had even spent fifteen minutes teaching a woman how to make his traditional Flemmy Stew, which she’d requested pen and paper to write down. Then she’d turned the page and copied it out again. And again.

Others had stared vacantly and silently into space for hours. Or  _ talked _ non-stop for hours, which was why, after much discussion, they had eventually caved and bought in Olaf. Kristoff still wasn’t sure that Olaf fully comprehended the tragedy of what had happened, but his chipper presence and sleepless companionship seemed enough to convince the refugees that a talking snowman was a sensible counsellor.

No one had raised the issue of boredom. Then again, there didn’t seem to be many children who needed entertaining… Kristoff froze.

Because the only other children he had seen were all lying on Elsa’s ice.

“Can I ask you something, kid?”

“What?”

“Did you… are you here with anyone? Your parents?”

“No.” The boy crossed his arms as if daring Kristoff to pry further.

He didn’t. He already knew.

Kristoff couldn’t solve the problems that required Anna’s or Elsa’s attention. He still didn’t know all the councillors’ names and faces, and could walk halfway across town before computing that ‘Your Highness’ meant  _ him _ . But he could distribute bedrolls. He knew how to safely raise someone’s body temperature. He could make sure all the refugees got a turn in the shower and had their scrapes and bruises treated. And he knew what it was like to have no one.

Kristoff ripped his last sandwich in two and handed one half to the boy, who accepted it like it was a bomb.

“You’re going to miss out on morning tea if you walk with me,” Kristoff explained as he stuffed his half in his mouth and started walking. “I’m Kristoff. What about you, kid?”

The boy sniffed the sandwich and made a face. He took a bite anyway. “Oskar,” he said around the mouthful. “And stop calling me a kid. I’m almost thirteen.”

Kristoff spun back around, baffled. “You,” he said incredulously, “are twelve years old?”

“I said,  _ almost thirteen _ .”

“That means you’re  _ twelve _ .”

“I  _ know _ my own age,” Oskar scowled. “My growth spurt is coming, okay?”

“I’m not saying there’s a problem with being—” Oskar’s glare shot holes in Kristoff’s chosen vocabulary. “— _ wiry _ . Which is another word for strong. It’s just… maybe I should have given you the whole sandwich.”

Still scowling, Oskar very pointedly shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. At least the kid had spirit.

Slowing his pace so Oskar wouldn’t have to jog to keep up with him, Kristoff pointed at a staircase. “We’re close to the library. Do you want to go in and have a look?”

“No.”

“What do you want to see, then?”

“Where’s the queen?”

Good question. “Everywhere,” Kristoff answered ruefully. He hadn’t seen Anna since breakfast, when he’d told her to tackle her hectic day without worrying about the refugees because he had it covered. She’d stood up as soon as Elsa and Sven left for the docks, and kissed him long and slow and murmured,  _ Thank you for being incredible.  _ Which wasn’t fair, because she’d stolen both the words and his breath from his lips.

“I want to see a reindeer,” Oskar said suddenly. “You have one in the castle, don’t you?”

Kristoff glanced down in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“I listen when people talk. Unlike you.”

And now he wanted to thump the kid again. Kristoff reminded himself that apathetic rudeness might just be Oskar’s way of coping with trauma.  _ But you’re not allowed to hit him even if it’s not _ , Anna’s voice lectured in his head.

“His name is Sven, and you’ll have to meet him another day. He’s out with Elsa right now.”

“Who’s Elsa?”

“The queen’s sister.”

“Oh. The ice witch.”

“ _ Don’t  _ call her that.” Kristoff’s growl startled Oskar enough to stop him in his tracks. He wasn’t sorry. “What Elsa has is magic, which she used to  _ help _ you last night. So before you call her anything at all, how about thanking her first?”

Oskar shifted under Kristoff’s glare. “That’s just what we call her in the Southern Isles,” he muttered.

“Well, you’re in Arendelle. And you don’t want to know what we call your Prince Hans up here.”

“Do you know him?”

“I only saw him once, and that was when my wife punched him overboard.”

“Didn’t Princess Anna do that? As in, the Princess Anna who’s now queen?”

Huh. Apparently Hans’s whole kingdom knew every detail of his failure, including his introduction to Anna’s right hook. That lifted Kristoff’s mood somewhat. “Yep. The one and only.”

“ _ You’re _ married to the  _ queen of Arendelle _ ?”

Kristoff crossed his arms smugly, hardly offended. “Will that make you think twice before  _ oi _ -ing me again?”

Oskar continued gawking at Kristoff like he belonged under a massive microscope.

“You’re going to trip,” Kristoff pointed out casually, just as Oskar stumbled. Anna-honed reflexes snatched up the back of the boy’s shirt before he could fall. “Told you.”

Oskar’s shirt was so oversized that Kristoff’s catch had practically pulled it over his head, and his muffled response was lost in fabric. “Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of barbarian?”

Kristoff yanked Oskar’s shirt back down. “ _ Ice. Harvester _ .”

“Is it true that you kill wolves with your bare hands and eat their hearts?”

“No! What on earth do they teach you on the Southern Isles? Actually, don’t tell me.” After hearing what they had to say about him and Elsa, Kristoff couldn’t risk finding out what they thought of Anna. It wasn’t a good time to break a hand on a wall.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“How about you give me an idea of where  _ you _ want to go?”

For the first time, Oskar was completely silent.

Kristoff dropped the whimsical tone. “All right. What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Anna would definitely let you sit on the throne if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“It’s not.”

Kristoff put a hand on Oskar’s mop of dark hair. Surprisingly, the boy didn’t duck away. “Hey. I’m not going to laugh at you. I didn’t know where to start when it was my first time in a castle. Sven’s stable was already bigger and nicer than anything I’d ever lived in. And don’t get me started on the  _ linen closet—” _

“The dungeons.”

Kristoff’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

Oskar continued staring down at the floor, but his voice was clear. “You told the guards that’s where you were going.”

Regretting every snappish reply, Kristoff crouched down. Oskar turned his head away. “That’s why you snuck out and followed me?”

“I didn’t sneak. No one said we couldn’t go anywhere. Are we your prisoners?”

“What? Of course not.” And yet Kristoff’s first thought had been,  _ How did this kid get past the guards?  _ Oskar’s restlessness made sense now. “Oskar. Do you know who we’re keeping in the dungeons?”

“I know  _ what _ is in the dungeons.”

“Come on, bud. I know it’s hard, but there’s no need to act tough. If you didn’t still think of them as people, you wouldn’t be asking to go down to see them.”

“If they were still people, you wouldn’t be going down there every few hours to check if they were starting to smell,” Oskar shot back. Then his entire body stiffened, and he jerked away.

It took every fibre of control in Kristoff’s being not to respond. He looked at Oskar and tried desperately to  _ see _ him. This belligerent stick of a kid who acted like a prickly rose bush when the only thorn he truly had was stuck fast into his young heart.

Anna would have hugged him.

Kristoff lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor and waited.

Minutes passed. Oskar looked like he wanted to sprint away. Kristoff remained silent. Neither of them moved.

Finally, Oskar’s murky eyes flickered up. They were dry, yet Kristoff saw a universe of pain swimming within them.

“Did you know someone in the dungeon?”

A small nod.

“Family?”

A shake of a head.

“Friend?”

Hesitation. “My sister.”

“Then that’s fam… oh.” Kristoff licked his lips. “I was adopted, too. So I know what it’s like to choose your own family. What’s important is that you care about your sister. And she cared about you, right?”

“She shouldn’t have.” It came out as a whisper. “If she’d cared less, she would still be alive.”

What could he say to that?

But Kristoff remembered something Grand Pabbie had told him a long time ago, when he had asked why the trolls would want to keep someone like him.

“Sometimes we get to choose the ones we love, and sometimes we don’t. But we never get to choose by whom we are loved.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Kristoff smiled faintly. “You will one day. After you hit your growth spurt.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, don’t forget I’m the queen’s husband.”

“Don’t forget that makes you a prince consort. Not a king.”

“How do  _ you _ know that?”

“I told you: I listen.” Oskar wiped his nose on the back of his arm. Kristoff plucked out his handkerchief and flicked it at him. Oskar blew so loudly into it that his voice, when he spoke again, sounded particularly small in contrast. Like the child he was supposed to be. “Do they?”

“Hmm?”

“… smell?”

“No, buddy. We’re taking good care of them. But it is cold down there. What do you say we find you some shoes before we visit your sister?”

“Normal shoes, right?”

“Watch it, brat.”

It came and went like a skittish mouse diving between gutters, but Kristoff saw it.

A smile.

* * *

There was no way Anna could single out just one thing she loved about Kristoff, but there was also no way around the fact that his reassuring  _ size  _ was a godsend when it came to finding him in a crowded ballroom. Or anywhere, really. Which was why Anna only had to take one step into the Great Hall before veering towards Gerda, who was going around and serving drinks from a trolley.

“Hi, Gerda. Have you seen Kristoff?”

“I believe His Highness is…” Gerda looked like she wanted to drop the pitcher and take Anna’s face in her hands. “Pardon me, Your Majesty, but have you seen the bags beneath your eyes? Did you not sleep well?”

“Oh, totally—totally well, I mean. Just not totally  _ long _ .” Anna took the pitcher from Gerda and poured a glass of orange juice, which she handed with a smile to a fuzzy-haired man staring up at her from his bedroll. “Here you go, sir. That’ll give the scurvy a good knock. Anyway, Gerda, I know for a fact that you and Kai got, like, six minutes of rest. I don’t understand how it doesn’t, you know, show on  _ your _ face.”

“I am a maid accustomed to the demands of my work, ma’am. You are a queen—”

“Who also has a lot of work to do. Please stop worrying about me, Gerda. You’ve seen  _ Elsa’s _ sleep hours; next to her, I’m practically the patron saint of comatose. Hi there! Good morning—oh gosh, it’s afternoon already. Would you like a drink? There’s juice, tea, coffee, hot cocoa… hmm. Gerda? We do have hot cocoa, right?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Gerda followed with the trolley, pouring hot milk and cocoa powder into a mug. She placed a teaspoon on the saucer and passed it into Anna’s waiting hands, all the while making it quite clear that she thought Anna ought to be tucked into bed. “To answer your previous question, ma’am, Prince Kristoff is making another round to check on the… ice.”

All of Anna’s focus went into not spilling the hot beverage. She hadn’t been down to the dungeons yet. Kristoff had made her promise not to, and he’d made it sound like a matter of trusting him to keep an eye on things—which she did, obviously—but it was plain as day that he thought it would upset her. Which it would. But still. She didn’t like the thought of him bearing that weight alone. She’d dodged an agricultural report from Councillor Fisker (“The harvest is poor this season; if more refugees are drawn to Arendelle, we may face a grain shortage!”) hoping to catch up with him. She wasn’t sure where Elsa was, either, but she’d heard that the fjord had been thawed. Knowing Elsa, she’d already hunted down something else to do.

At least she wasn’t doing this alone.

“His Highness has been very helpful,” Gerda added. “He’s earned their trust.”

“Of course he has,” Anna said fondly. She turned to the next person. “Hello! What can I get for you?”

The woman reached up to clutch Anna’s hand. “You’re the queen,” she said hoarsely.

“That’s me. I’m Anna.” Patting the woman’s hand, Anna shot a discreet but firm look at the nearest guard, who had started forward at the contact. He returned reluctantly to his post. “Did you rest well? I know how uncomfortable it is sleeping on the floor—I did it, too, but I kind of cheated by using my sister and husband as cushions. I hope the food has been to your taste; I asked the cooks to try some southern recipes but, well, sometimes their experimentations literally  _ go south  _ if know what I mean—”

Suddenly, there were so many people around her that Anna lost sight of Gerda. A circle formed around her, yet there was no shouting, no fervent pulling at her clothes and hair. Anna stared at a congregation of unfamiliar faces, taking in their haggardness but seeing far more clearly the synchronous movement of their lips as they all murmured the same thing.

_ Thank you. _

Certain things were expected of a queen, but there was also a far longer list of things she was  _ not _ supposed to do. Like listening to her subjects’ petitions over tea and biscuits instead of from her throne on the dais. Like sneaking out of the castle for a date night. Like kicking off her shoes and swimming towards the sound of screaming.

Like holding back tears in front of people from a kingdom threatening war with hers, and whispering, “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

* * *

It took a while for her to notice the hush that fell over the Great Hall.

“So, Emil, your job was making crossbows. That’s incredible. That means you’re a… sorry, what’s the word again?”

“Atilliator, Your Majesty.”

“Right—and how do you spell that?”

“With two Ls,” a new voice answered.

Anna looked up so quickly she nearly knocked over the inkwell. “Elsa! You found me.”

Her sister smiled down at her, bright as sunshine. She knelt down and rubbed a cool thumb across Anna’s cheek. “You have ink on your face.”

“And probably on my dress, too. I keep poking holes through the parchment.” Anna waved the list she was working on. “I’m writing everyone’s names and the jobs they had back at home. It might help us find something for them to do while they’re here… is something wrong?”

A shadow had flickered across Elsa’s face. “Anna, I need to talk to you.”

“Okay. Wait—” Anna put down the quill and paper, and pressed a hand to Elsa’s forehead. “Do you have another headache?”

She felt that little crease in Elsa’s brow momentarily smooth out with amusement. “I didn’t realise you could detect it like a fever.”

“Yeah, well, you do have a bad habit of not telling me about those, either, and I don’t want you falling off the clock tower again.”

“That was  _ one time _ —”

“Too many.”

Elsa made a face at her. Anna mimicked it. Her sister’s smile returned. “I don’t have a fever, Anna.”

“But you do have a headache?”

“It’s much better than before. I’ll be fine.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. The thing was, Elsa always  _ looked _ fine. Like Gerda, she showed no signs of sleep deprivation, and somehow even made sitting on the floor look like a lesson in grace. But Anna also knew that her sister sang in the bath, woke up with bed hair just like hers, and couldn’t play charades to save her life yet could unceremoniously stack a house of playing cards without using magic.

Anna picked up the lukewarm tea by her side and pushed it into Elsa’s hands. “We ran out of sugar cubes before I could make it the way I like it, so this should taste just right for you.”

She watched with satisfaction as Elsa’s shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. “Thank you.”

“Are the other spirits still mad at you? Can you tell?”

There was a pause as Elsa took a sip of tea in that enviously composed manner of hers. When she did it, it looked strategic; when Anna did it, she just looked thirsty. “Yes, and yes. I’d hoped the Nokk would respond after I unfroze the fjord… but it didn’t.”

“Have you tried talking to Honeymaren and Ryder? I saw them in the market today. But I guess they’d just tell you to go to Yelana, huh? You know what? You  _ should  _ go back and figure this out, Elsa. I’ve got everything under control here.”

“Anna, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not! It’s important!”

“Yes, but we have a bigger problem. We need to—” Elsa broke off.

Puzzled, Anna looked up.

The refugees had formed another circle around them. But this time, they were all staring at Elsa.

Anna’s head snapped back, and she saw Elsa’s wide eyes and the doors closing within them; the way she drew her hands to her chest, no doubt thinking of another time she had frozen the fjord in front of another crowd—

Anna shot to her feet—this time, she really did knock over the inkwell. But she didn’t look down. She reached behind her, and when she felt Elsa take her hand, she yanked her sister up beside her.

“Anna,” Elsa gasped, stumbling into her. “What are you—”

“Everyone, this is Elsa. My sister. She’s…” God, how could she  _ summarise _ her magical sister, the fifth spirit and former queen, creator of snowmen and houses of cards alike? “She’s just Elsa,” Anna announced resolutely.

Biting her lip, Elsa gazed out at the refugees. Then she dipped her head and said, softly, “I’m very sorry for your losses.”

There was a long silence.

Emil the atilliator stepped forward. “Your Majesty, Your Highness. Please… stop apologising for the problems caused by our own kingdom. None of us would be here without you.” He glanced hesitantly at Elsa. “Both of you.”

And there was a shift. Apprehensive expressions cracked open into tentative smiles. More murmurs of blessings and  _ thank you. _ But the most gratitude radiated from Elsa herself. Anna remembered the morning after summer had been restored, when she’d bounced into Elsa’s room stoked for the queen’s first public address—only to find her sister huddled on the floor, her dress pooled around her as she anxiously watched snow fall from the ceiling.  _ What if they hate me, Anna? _

Now, Anna squeezed Elsa’s hand and leaned in to whisper, “Was this the ‘big problem’ you were talking about?”

Elsa’s troubled expression returned.

“That’s a no,” Anna sighed.

Elsa regarded her. Then the refugees. And appeared to decide. “Actually,” she said, “I’d like to speak to everyone.”

She cast Anna a look that seemed to ask  _ May I? _ Which Anna didn’t understand why she kept doing in front of other people, because, sure, Anna was the queen now but Elsa was still her big sister and it wasn’t like  _ no _ existed between them.

But when Elsa turned back to face the refugees, she wasn’t just Elsa anymore. Queen or not, there was no mistake about the gravity of what she planned to say next.

She clasped her hands together and raised her voice. “This morning, we retrieved your boats from the fjord.”

Anna’s eyebrows shot up. That was it? She already knew that.

And yet there was another shift in the air. The refugees shuffled on the spot and glanced at each other.

Elsa pursed her lips. “Your reactions tell me you were hoping we wouldn’t find them. Does that mean you were the ones who purposefully sank them?”

Anna wasn’t sure she’d heard properly. “Wait, what?”

Elsa gave her an apologetic look and opened her mouth to explain. But one woman answered, “Yes, Your Highness. We did.”

“Ragna!” her neighbour hissed.

_ Ragna the cook _ , Anna recalled from her list.

“We owe them the truth, Osmund.”  _ Osmund the blacksmith. _ “The queen and princess have shown us nothing but kindness.”

“I know that—but what  _ truth _ is there left to tell?”

Multiple voices rose. The guards at the corners of the room snapped to attention.

“Whoa—what’s going on here?” came a familiar voice from the back of the crowd.

Anna could no longer count on one hand the number of times she’d wanted to cry in relief at the sight of that sweet, rugged face. “Kristoff!”

She wasn’t the only one glad to see him. The hall immediately quietened as the refugees settled down, their heads downcast like children caught squabbling in front of a parent. Anna and Elsa shared a perplexed look—it seemed Kristoff had worked his own kind of magic on them.

And now he was looking questioningly at Anna, like he hoped  _ she _ also had a trick to pull out of her sleeve.

Her mind spun. “Okay, let’s just… talk this through. I don’t understand; why did you get rid of the boats when you were so close to Arendelle? The water was… it’s dangerous.” She didn’t think they needed that reminder.

“The boats were blocked by floating ice,” Emil said. “It would have taken days for the ice to melt enough for us to pass. Swimming was inevitable.”

“But you didn’t have to sink the boats. That would have taken time. Energy. Why didn’t you just leave them there?”

No one answered. Not even Emil or Ragna.

“Anna,” Elsa said quietly. “We found arrows stuck into all the boats.”

“ _ Arrows _ ?”

“ _ Oh _ . That explains…” Kristoff grimaced as he met Anna’s disoriented gaze. “Last night, in the dungeons, I noticed not everyone looked like they’d… drowned. I couldn’t be sure because the water had washed away most of the blood, but…”

“They were attacked.” Anna held onto Elsa’s arm as she looked at the refugees in horror. “ _ You _ were attacked.”

“The king ordered archers to shoot any unauthorised boats leaving the Isles,” murmured Ragna.

“We’re so sorry,” Elsa said. “I hope you’ll forgive my insensitivity, but please, we need more answers. You wouldn’t have gone to the effort of sinking the boats if you didn’t believe there was someone on your trail. Someone to hide from. We need to know if there are any ships, King Caleb’s or otherwise, that could track you here. To Arendelle.”

_ To Arendelle. _

It hit Anna then, exactly how naïve she’d been. She had gotten this far by telling herself that the next right thing could only truly be the next right thing if it was the best for  _ everyone _ . But she saw now that it was nothing more than a child’s fantasy written in snow, destined to be buried. Sometimes there was not enough room for everyone on a single life raft. Just like the balance between nature and humans, there was a balance to everything else. Except there was no bridge between humans. Where there was give, there would be take.

Caleb was hellbent on taking. But Anna was the one who had done too much giving, without first asking questions.

She let go of Elsa’s hand and stepped forward. She didn’t look at Kristoff. She only had eyes for the people from the Southern Isles, who stared uneasily back at her because they had only ever known one type of ruler.

“Are you worried that we will make you leave? It would make sense, wouldn’t it? If you’re actually fugitives, then sheltering you will only come back to bite us. That’s why you destroyed the boats, even though it wouldn’t take much for trackers to figure out you had come to Arendelle. You hoped they would think you had all drowned—or, if they came here, you hoped we would protect you. You knew the danger you were bringing to our shores, and you chose to come anyway.”

They all bowed their heads.

“Except you didn’t get to choose when your kingdom went to war with itself.  _ I _ chose to help you. When I learned you had come from the Southern Isles,  _ I _ chose to open our gates to you anyway.” Anna took a breath and square her shoulders. “And it’s strange, but no matter what happens, or who comes looking for you, I don’t think I’ll ever regret saving you. I can’t blame you for that, because you didn’t have a choice. But  _ I  _ did, and if I made the wrong one—if my mistake endangered my kingdom—then I hope you’ll choose to help me fix it. We’re in this together.”

Anna reached out and took Ragna’s hand. She looked at Emil. “Please,” she implored, “don’t be afraid. Just be honest. Tell me: is something coming?”

For a long while, no one seemed to breathe.

Then Ragna swallowed. “Queen Anna, the truth is—”

“Caleb sent two ships after us.”

Every head turned towards the new voice. It came from Kristoff’s direction, but he was also staring down in astonishment. Anna couldn’t see who stood next to him until murmurs travelled through the crowd, and the refugees parted to reveal a young boy.

“Oh,” Anna breathed.

He was no longer drenched and shivering. Gone was the ragged tunic, replaced by a bright Arendellian outfit that, unlike the other refugees’ clothes, actually seemed to fit him. His boots gave his footsteps a solid presence as he left Kristoff’s side. As he came closer to her, Anna saw that beneath the bedraggled dark hair, his eyes were no longer glassy and vacant. Far from it.

“Hello again,” she said.

“Two ships,” the boy repeated in his peculiarly serious tone.

She resisted the urge to crouch down for him. “Are you sure, buddy? Even if Caleb didn’t want anyone to leave, that’s a lot of firepower to send after a group of civilians in the middle of a coup.”

He shrugged. “We’re not all civilians.”

Anna blinked, letting it sink in.

Then she turned around and snatched up the list she had left on the floor, scanning her scrawled handwriting. The words leapt out at her—how had she missed it?

“Elsa?”

“Yes?”

“Atilliator, blacksmith, cook, porter, falconer, constable, steward. Doesn’t that sound like…”

“Household staff positions,” Elsa murmured, “for a highly militarised noble family.”

They both looked up at the boy. He didn’t seem daunted.

“What happened to those two ships?” Elsa questioned. “You couldn’t have outrun them.”

“We got a head start, and they didn’t use the cannons. Caleb still wanted to get us back alive, but he took too long. My father’s fleet ambushed his so we could get away.”

“Your father’s fleet?” Elsa repeated.

Anna gazed at the boy standing in front of her. He was even smaller than she’d initially thought, and it was still strange to hear so many words coming out of his lips, which were no longer purple with cold. But all she had to do was close her eyes, and she’d be back in the icy water with him, his thin arm wrapped around her neck as she told him,  _ We’ll do it together. Okay? _

For the second time, she asked him, “What’s your name?”

And this time, the boy replied, “Oskar Westergaard.”


	4. A Question of Whether

They returned after dinner and took him into the messiest room he had seen in his life.

There were books and piles of paper and  _ stuff _ lying absolutely everywhere. Oskar actually halted in the doorway, unable to fathom how anyone could walk through that. Then the Queen of Arendelle demonstrated, and after seeing her clip nearly every precariously balanced stack on her way to the desk, that question was swiftly replaced by:  _ how was everything still upright? _

In contrast, the queen’s sister practically glided through the labyrinth—and she was the one with the sinuous dress. Ice powers or not, Oskar decided he was safer following in her wake.

The queen hopped onto one leg to slip off her shoes; when she lost her balance, her sister steadied her without breaking stride as she brushed past. The barefoot queen smiled. Then she seemed to remember Oskar, standing incongruously in the middle of her office, and the corners of her lips tugged back down.

She leaned back on the desk and crossed her arms rather imperiously. “Sit.”

Oskar made a point of looking around. The only seat he saw was buried under books. “Where _ , _ Your Majesty?”

Paper rustled as a light gust blew into the room—and a chair materialised behind him. It was unexpectedly ornate, made of the same sparkling ice that had encased the fjord. Oskar never thought that he’d be able to recognise  _ ice _ .

He tried to keep the battle between awe and fear under wraps as he turned to the Ice Witch, who was rummaging through the desk’s drawers. What had Kristoff said about her again?  _ Thanking her? _

Oskar started when her cool blue eyes flickered to his.

“It’s just a chair; nothing more,” she said in a light voice that was nothing like the authoritative one he’d heard her use in the Great Hall. Like her sister’s, there was a musical ring to it.

_ Rule three: show no weakness. _

Oskar planted himself down. He shifted to confirm that she had been telling the truth; the ice didn’t freeze him to the chair. He could leap up and run if needed. Very easily, too, since the chair was low enough that his feet could actually touch the floor. Was that a coincidence?

“Are you comfortable?”

Not a coincidence.

Oskar nodded. Then, after a pause, muttered, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“ _ Elsa _ ,” the queen hissed over her shoulder. “What happened to the plan?”

“Sorry. I’ll be quiet.” Finding a fresh sheet of parchment, the princess picked up a quill and started writing.

The queen’s narrowed eyes returned to Oskar. “So,” she began dramatically.

He sneezed.

“Bless you—” the queen and princess said, but Oskar wasn’t done. He sneezed again. And a third time. Then half of a fourth.

When he opened his watery eyes, the queen’s concerned face was in front of his. The comically sinister expression was gone.

“Are you okay? Did you catch a cold?” Her hand touched his forehead. Oskar didn’t have the time or sense to flinch. “Doesn’t feel like you have a fever, at least. Elsa, can you pass me the blanket on the back of the chair?”

Before Oskar registered what was happening, he was bundled up in a thick cable-knit blanket the colour of spring grass, unable to see anything but the top of the Queen of Arendelle’s braided head as she knelt and tucked the blanket around his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping the feet warm is super important when you’re sick. Just trust me on this. I’m a veteran.”

_ Rule two: trust no one. _

“No,” he said impatiently. “ _ What _ are you doing?”  _ To me. For me. _

“I literally just said—” She stopped and looked up at him. She blinked. Then she covered her face and groaned. “Darn it! This isn’t working, Elsa! He’s just a  _ kid _ . And he looks nothing like Hans.”

“I can see that,” her sister replied without looking up.

“I am  _ not _ just a kid,” Oskar scowled. “And that’s because Hans isn’t my father.”

“Of course he’s not; I figured that out myself. But it would be easier for me to be mean to you if you had, I don’t know—sideburns, or something.”

“If I did, would I already be in a cell?”

The queen stared at him. Behind her, her sister’s head also came up. Oskar glowered at both of them.

Then their identical eyes did the same bewildering thing: they softened.

“Are you sure you’re twelve, buddy?” the queen asked gently.

_ Rule one: Westergaards are lions, not mice. _

“Are you sure you’re the queen?” Oskar shot back.

There. He’d drawn first blood. He’d shown her the danger of underestimating him.

So why in the world was she laughing? “Are you sure you’re a prince of the Southern Isles?”

Oskar clenched his jaw and raised his chin. “Yes.”

“Just checking. You’re awfully honest for one.” Still grinning, the queen stood and reached over his head.

He absolutely did not flinch.

She took down a box of chocolates that had apparently been resting atop a book stack. She offered it to him, and rolled her eyes when he refused. “It’s not poisoned or anything. Look.” She popped one into her mouth. Then another.

“I’m not paranoid. I just don’t like chocolate.”

“What? Did you hear that, Elsa? Such heresy. Oh, do you want the last salted caramel?”

Oskar didn’t realise when exactly he had relaxed into his chair. The ice wasn’t as noticeable anymore. Between the blanket that smelled like summer, and the clothes Kristoff had asked a maid to purchase when they hadn’t been able to find anything in his size, Oskar was warmer than he’d felt in a long time.

No. He wasn’t going to break rule two.

The queen lined up thirteen chocolates on her desk and clapped her hands together. “So—if this end is Caleb, and that end is Hans, which one is your father, Oskar?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She grinned back and made an encouraging flourish at the chocolates.

Sighing, Oskar got up and walked over to the desk, the blanket trailing after him. He jabbed a finger at the fifth chocolate. This was pointless. This was childish. This was—

He looked up in time to catch the queen casting a relieved glance at her sister.

This was a trap.

He frowned. “You already knew who my father was.”

Her startled eyes snapped back to him. Then dropped guiltily. “Um… we guessed. Well,  _ I  _ guessed. Elsa hypothesised.”

And suddenly Oskar was livid—but not at the Queen of Arendelle or even her watchful, unreadable Snow Queen of a sister. He was a fool. A fool for thinking that he could play this game better than someone who would leap into the freezing water for a stranger; who had stood up in front of his people with that earnest face of hers and said,  _ I don’t think I’ll ever regret saving you _ .

For thinking that someone like her didn’t have a rule two of her own.

“You were testing to see if I would lie.”

* * *

It was only because Anna was turned away from her that Elsa saw her sister’s hands clench behind her back. What she couldn’t see was Anna’s face, and if she was being truthful, Elsa was glad. She didn’t want to know.

Because she knew that what Anna had actually wanted to do was invite Oskar Westergaard to dinner so she could make sure he ate his greens while she fussed over cutting up his steak for him. Anna would have coaxed him to talk over dessert instead of marching him into the study with interrogation plans Elsa had known neither of them would have the heart to carry out. Anna would still have tried to cheer him up with chocolates, but she wouldn’t have thought to ask such a question, or to be pleased when Oskar’s answer matched what she and Elsa had previously discussed. Anna never would have thought to suspect a twelve year old boy of having ulterior motives.

The worst part was that Elsa could tell Anna hadn’t meant to test him at all. Yet, instead of clearing the misunderstanding, Elsa watched her little sister—the queen—remain silent. She saw Anna struggling to  _ conceal, don’t feel, _ and wondered how much of it was her fault.

“Were you planning to lock me up if I lied?” Oskar’s voice was devoid of emotion.

_ Twelve years old, _ Elsa reminded herself. He was twelve years old. But he was also a Westergaard, and though it didn’t show in his appearance, it certainly did in his suspicion. This was a child who had been attacked by his own uncle, barely survived five days at sea, and had come expecting chains around his wrists and ankles. To him, sympathy was an insult, and empathy nothing more than a ruse.

Elsa saw Anna’s arms rise as if to hug him, only to drop back to her side. “You’re not going to be locked up no matter what you choose to say, Oskar. But we appreciate you telling us the truth.”

“How can you be so sure that I did?” he snapped. “Eleven of King Johan’s thirteen sons are married. I could be any of his thirty-one grandchildren.”

Anna did a double-take. “ _ Thirty-one _ ?”

“We recalled you mentioning your father had a fleet,” Elsa said, replacing the quill. “Very few soldiers would be willing to risk their lives and families revolting against their rightful king. It would take an exceptional leader to rally enough men to challenge Caleb.” She turned the paper around and slid it across the desk. “Someone like Prince Gregory, the Spear of the Southern Isles.”

Both Anna and Oskar stared down at the family tree Elsa had drawn. Thirteen names were evenly spaced at the bottom of the sheet.

“Whoa,” Anna said. “This is a lot more detailed than what you were telling me. How do you just know all their names off the top of your head?”

For the same reason Anna was able to knit a scarf in a day, fold practically anything out of paper, and wield a sword skilfully enough to impress General Mattias.

What Elsa actually said, though, was: “I did my research after my sister nearly married one of them.”

“Oh my God,” Anna groaned. “Do you have to remind me every time?”

Elsa smiled and picked out another chocolate.

“You could have done a lot worse than Hans,” Oskar said offhandedly.

“That’s a silver lining, isn’t it? Imagine if Crown Prince Caleb had come to Elsa’s coronation. Actually, maybe that would’ve worked out better; my evil radar would have gone off and warned me to stay away. At least Hans didn’t successfully murder anyone.”

“Wait. You think  _ Caleb _ killed the king?”

Elsa looked at Oskar in surprise. “Did he not?”

“Then who did?” Anna’s gaze flicked down the diagram and widened in dread as it considered the thirteenth name. And Elsa found that she didn’t want to hear Oskar say  _ that  _ name, either, because despite his abhorring plots, Anna had sincerely loved Hans, at least for a few hours. He had come close enough to leave scars on her heart. Yet neither of them wanted to find out that he had finally gone too far.

“The twins,” Oskar answered.

“… Who?” Anna asked blankly.

He jerked his head at the family tree. “Rudi and Runo. You got them the wrong way around, by the way; Runo is older. And uglier. They caused some big trouble in Corona and nearly blew our alliance with them. The king was furious because this wasn’t like Hans screwing up in Arendelle; the Isles can’t afford to lose Corona. So the twins were exiled. Left to be punished as Corona saw fit.”

“The king disowned them? Just like that? But they were family.”

“So?” Oskar didn’t seem to understand Anna’s shock. He didn’t understand that she had never given up on anyone, and that the nonchalant cruelty of his world was like a comet colliding into hers. “Anyway, the twins broke out of Corona’s prison, snuck back in the middle of the night, and the next morning, Caleb was king of the Southern Isles.”

Anna was silent.

“What else can you tell us about what’s happening in the Southern Isles?” Elsa asked.

“Oh,  _ now _ you trust me, do you?”

She glanced at Anna’s pale face. “I trust you because my sister does.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Oskar scoffed. “She didn’t.”

“She wasn’t sure if you would tell the truth; that is different to not trusting  _ you _ . You already pointed out that King Johan had many grandchildren. Most of them haven’t been seen or documented outside of the Southern Isles; anyone could claim to be one of them.” Oskar opened his mouth, but Elsa went on. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation at all if Anna hadn’t believed you from the beginning. She took you for your word when you told us you were running from Caleb. She trusted that you are who you claim to be, and so she also trusted what her experiences with members of your family have taught her. She rightfully suspected you, as you understandably suspected us.

“We’re now comfortable trusting that you have nothing to gain from deceiving us.” Elsa nudged the inkwell and quill towards Oskar. “But I also think that you wouldn’t have revealed your identity so willingly, Prince Oskar of the Southern Isles, if  _ you _ did not on some level trust Anna, too.”

At this, Anna lifted her head.

Oskar blustered, “If you think I owe her anything just because she saved me—”

“So long as you don’t blame me for not being able to save Sofia, I promise you don’t owe me a thing, little guy.”

Watching them, Elsa felt like she was no longer in the room. Anna had told her about finding Oskar in the fjord—about why he had barely been able to stay afloat. Then, when Kristoff shared that Oskar seemed to believe his adopted sister had died because of him, Anna had teared up so badly that Elsa and Kristoff had nearly cracked their heads together in their rush to comfort her.

Oskar did not know about these moments. But Elsa understood his confusion—with Anna, it was impossible to pretend that she didn’t care. And when she gave him a small, helpless smile, he blinked as if snapping from a trance.

He jerked away from her. Then he snatched up the quill, muttering, “Stop calling me ‘little’.”

Elsa joined Anna on the other side of the desk as Oskar started scribbling over the diagram.

“The fighting started because the twins were stupid enough to brag about killing the king. Obviously, the sentence is death. But Caleb let Rudi and Runo get away unpunished, and even reinstated their titles. He’s been pressuring King Johan to step down for years, see, so to him it was like the twins had done him a favour.”

Oskar crossed out the second name on the list. “Still, things wouldn’t be this bad if Aksel hadn’t challenged Caleb to a duel for the throne. He lost and yielded. Caleb killed him anyway.”

“ _ What? _ ” Anna clutched Elsa’s arm. “But he yielded!”

“Caleb thought he was a threat. Or maybe he just wanted to make an example out of him. Aksel wasn’t smart enough to hide his family before the duel, so Caleb had them brought in before he—”

“Thank you, Oskar,” Elsa cut in, her mouth dry. She took Anna’s hand and stepped in front of her. “We understand the… situation.”

Oskar glanced curiously behind her. Elsa shifted so he wouldn’t be able to see Anna’s face buried between her shoulder blades, or the way she gripped Elsa’s hand so tightly it hurt.

“Whatever. Rudi and Runo obviously sided with Caleb. Hendrick, too; he’s always thought of Caleb as some sort of shining knight. Lars is third oldest and has never been interested in anything but books. When he saw what happened to Aksel, he fled the country with his wife and children. So did Franz and Niklas, but they both married princesses from Blavenia so word on the street is that the Blavenian king has plans to take down Caleb and put one of them on the throne. Jurgen, Sigurd and Erik left the Isles as soon as they got married and haven’t been back in years—but who knows what they’re cooking up in Zaria and Kongsberg now that King Johan is gone.”

The pieces clicked together in Elsa’s mind. She had wondered why the refugees had specifically travelled to Arendelle when there were shorter and safer routes to other nations. With the feuding princes scattered across their closest neighbours, the Southern Isles faced more potential enemies than allies. In contrast, Arendelle looked like a safe haven—and, to Caleb, exploitable.

“What about Hans?” Anna asked hesitantly.

Oskar shrugged. “He’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean,  _ gone?” _ Anna’s eyes darted between Hans’s name and the messy marks that had erased Aksel’s.

“When I say gone, I mean  _ gone _ . Geez. No one knows where he is. King Johan demoted him for the embarrassment in Arendelle. He’s been polishing horse shoes and shovelling manure these last few years. As soon as we heard the king was dead, Hans vanished. It’s not like he could’ve cut a better deal with Caleb in charge.”

“So he’s okay.” Anna sounded relieved.

“Could be dead. Could be halfway to India. Who knows. Who cares?” Oskar tossed the quill down, leaving spatters of black across the names of his twelve uncles.

“And your father?” Elsa prompted. “Tell us about Prince Gregory.”

Shrugging, he started stacking the chocolates into a tower. “What is there to tell? He’s the best admiral in the navy. Never lost a battle on the water. That’s why they call him the Spear; he can find any ship’s weakness and sink it with a single cannon shot.”

“Why were you not with him when everything started?”

“He was away on a military exercise. The first thing Caleb did was send men to pick me up. Smartest move he’s made since becoming king. You don’t go up against Prince Gregory without insurance.”

“He’s your father, Oskar,” Anna noted softly. “You can call him that. We’re not going to hold it against you.”

“We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll get to know each other—”

“Prince Gregory and I. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“Oh.” Anna looked thrown by yet another differing worldview on something she had taken for granted.

Elsa realised she had, too. Despite all the times she had withdrawn from her parents, she had not once questioned the nature of their love for her and Anna.

“But now you’re here,” Anna said awkwardly. “Your father came back for you.”

Oskar frowned. “Yeah. He did.”

“So why didn’t you join him? Why come here instead?”

“It was too dangerous.”

“Dangerous? You nearly died trying to reach Arendelle. How is that not—”

“It’s already started.” Oskar pulled the blanket Anna had given him tighter around his shoulders. “Caleb was executing one staff member a day. He didn’t want to give Prince Gregory time to gather more soldiers. It worked; Prince Gregory distracted Caleb so we could get away, and then he launched a siege to buy more time.”

He paused, then repeated: “It’s already started.”

Elsa and Anna turned to each other as they registered what Oskar had said. What it meant.

Councillor Belland’s advice had been logical: Caleb’s threats were hollow while he was distracted by the coup. As long as Prince Gregory’s rebellion stood, Arendelle was safe. Sieges could last years.

Or they could be shattered in weeks.

“Oskar?” Anna said slowly. “What are your father’s chances of winning?”

“He’s never lost. As long as he has the men, he’ll find a way.”

“… Do  _ you _ think he has enough men?”

Oskar carefully stacked the last chocolate, and stepped back. The three of them viewed his handiwork in silence. The tower stood flimsy and narrow, thirteen brown blocks high. Each piece was even and balanced. Each had its own place.

Then Oskar stamped one boot hard on the floor, and everything came crashing down.

* * *

“He might have caught a cold, so please keep an eye on him and send for the physician if he starts running a temperature. Oh, and he can keep this blanket; I can knit another one in no time. Maybe we should ask the kitchen to make some chicken soup for him—for everyone, actually. Oskar? Do you like chicken soup?”

He shrugged and crawled into his bedroll, knowing she would keep talking anyway.

“Chicken soup tomorrow, then,” she told the maid, who bowed and went to help another person set up their bedroll.

It was quiet in the Great Hall. Most people had already turned in for the night, the dazzle of the brilliant chandeliers replaced by the mild glow of wall sconces. Good—he didn’t want to talk to anyone. Didn’t want them asking if he knew what he was doing because Westergaards were lions and the answer couldn’t be  _ no. _

“Do you want an extra pillow? Something to hug?”

Why was she still here?

“I don’t need you to tuck me in,” he muttered.

She did it anyway.

“You’re not going to stay and watch me sleep, are you?”

“Hmm? Nah. Just felt like sitting down for a bit. I’ve been up all day. Do you mind?”

“… You’re the queen. Do whatever you want.” He rolled onto his side, facing away from her.

She started humming quietly. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t good, either, because Sofia used to hum and sometimes sing when she thought no one could hear her.

“Oi.”

“Rude.”

“Fine.  _ Your Majesty _ .”

“That’s not my name,” she sang.

“I’m not going to call you by your name.”

“Why not, Oskar?”

“We’re not friends.”

“Can’t we be?”

Then he was on his back again, frowning up at her. “Why would someone like you want to be friends with someone like me?”

She cocked her head to one side. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m twelve, and I can see everything wrong with that.”

“Oh? Is someone proud to be a kid now?”

Huffing, he rolled back over. She fixed the blanket around him. He wanted to yell into the pillow.

“You’re doing this all wrong, you know.”

“Is there a scientifically proven way to tuck someone in?”

“I meant being queen.”

Soft laughter. Did nothing upset this ludicrous person? No, that wasn’t right. She’d hidden behind her sister when he had described Caleb killing Aksel. And when she had seen Sofia’s body, she’d looked ready to cry on his behalf.

It hit him that she got upset for others, but not herself.

“Probably,” she admitted breezily. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“Then stop,” he told her.

“Good idea. I’ll abdicate to Olaf first thing tomorrow. You’ve met Olaf, haven’t you?”

“Stop being  _ nice _ .”

“In general? Or just to you?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” she said lightly. “Being horrible to you wouldn’t make me feel any better. Or make me a better queen. Sure, there’s a lot of bad news hanging over our heads right now… but none of this is your fault, Oskar. And you have every right to be frustrated and angry. You understand that, don’t you?”

She had no idea.

“Go away, Anna.”

A strangled sound. Had he finally agitated her?

But when he cracked an eye open, he saw that she’d stuffed a fist into her mouth and was biting back giggles.

“What?” he demanded, turning towards her for the umpteenth time.

She waved a hand until she had enough breath to say, “It’s just… my sister used to say that to me all the time. We didn’t see each other much, so I’d keep bugging her until she gave up and talked to me, even if it was just to tell me to go away. And now look at us. You’ve started down a slippery slope, pal.”

“I’m not going to become your sister,” he said flatly. “Or your friend.”

“That’s okay; baby steps. I’m very patient. Depending on who you ask.”

There was no way he was going to sleep until she left. Except she kept  _ talking _ and at some point she started stroking his hair and he wanted to push her away and tell her he wasn’t falling for any of it… but then the silence would invite burning ships to sail across the black of his eyelids only to sink, and sink, and sink, and no matter how hard he swam, and swam, and swam, he still wouldn’t be able to reach Sofia.

The last thing he remembered before sleep tided over was her soft voice saying, “You’re okay, Oskar. You’re okay.”

* * *

There was no point pretending she didn’t miss this when there was nostalgia in every tiptoed step towards the study; in peeking inside to see Elsa still working at the desk, and mentally debating whether the inevitable snowball to the face was worth the satisfaction of making her unflappable sister shriek in surprise.

Snowball all the way.

“I can see you.”

_ Drats. _ “No you can’t. There’s stuff everywhere.”

“Which are usually inanimate unless someone bumps into them.”

Pouting, Anna stood up—or she planned to, anyway. What she hadn’t planned on was tripping on the bottom of her dress and losing a shoe and flinching as the floor rose to meet her—

She smacked into a pile of snow.

For a moment, she just closed her eyes and let the chill sink in. Let  _ herself _ sink into it because the feeling of soft, familiar snow on her skin pushed back ghostly memories of huddling in a cavern with damp hair and clothes, and still feeling too warm.

“Anna?”

She looked up. There was her sister, half-risen from her seat in concern.

Anna pulled herself up and shucked off her remaining shoe while she was at it. “That was a trust fall.”

Shaking her head, Elsa sat back down. “In the sense that I trusted you would fall at some point?”

Reaching the desk, Anna leaned over the back of the chair and hugged her sister from behind. “It’s not my fault gravity pulls me down.”

Elsa put down the quill and studied her. This, too, was nostalgic because Anna had learned that she could spend hours unsuccessfully trying to drag her overworked sister to bed, but as soon as Elsa sensed that Anna _needed_ _her_ , suddenly no state matter was urgent enough.

Neither of them spoke. Then Elsa reached up and drew Anna’s right hand up to her lips. And Anna couldn’t help smiling into her sister’s hair, because even this new thing felt nostalgic. It had only started after her coronation. Anna had shed the heavy dress and crown and had been laughing at the sight of Kristoff, Sven and Olaf taking turns to pay their extravagant respects to her dishevelled self. She’d thought Sven had done the best job. But then Elsa had stepped forward.

Unlike the boys, she hadn’t greeted her with  _ Your Majesty _ . She’d dipped into a perfect curtsey, glanced up long enough for Anna to see through her own blurry vision that Elsa’s eyes were also shining with tears, and smiled.  _ My queen. _ And then she’d kissed Anna’s hand, just like their mother used to do every night.

“Is everything okay?”

Anna blinked back to the present and felt the weight of reality settle on her shoulders. “Are  _ you _ okay?”

“Of course.”

“Then yes. Everything is more than okay.” Anna squeezed a little tighter. Then she gave in to the exhaustion and draped over Elsa, who patted her head. “Oskar’s in bed, by the way.”

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah. I mean, as alright as a twelve year old who’s convinced his father is going to die can be. You can tell he thinks it’s his fault. But I got him to sleep in the end.” Anna flashed a smile. “I’m pretty good at telling people when something isn’t their fault. Aren’t I, sis?”

“Yes, you are,” Elsa said wryly. “What about Kristoff? Has he turned in yet?”

Anna shook her head. She’d run into him on her way to the study, and they’d taken ten minutes to catch up in an alcove over a rhubarb pie he’d gotten from the kitchen. Then they’d spent another ten minutes catching up in a different kind of language that had resulted in Anna yanking out her hairpins and letting her hair down because Kristoff’s hands had completely murdered her bun.

Before they had gone their separate ways again, Kristoff had asked,  _ Are you sure you’re okay? _ She’d said  _ Yes _ , obviously, but it must not have sounded convincing enough because he’d kissed the top of her head and said,  _ Tell me when you’re ready _ .

All Anna knew was that she was ready for everything to go back to normal. But she also knew when to recognise that was impossible.

“He’s down in the dungeons again. Some of the refugees couldn’t sleep without making sure their loved ones are… you know—okay. Most of them are just civilians. Families.”

Elsa nodded. “Is something else bothering you?”

God, how did everyone around her keep doing that?

“I was just thinking… your magic can give life, right? Like Olaf and Marshmallow and the Snowgies. So does it affect you in any way? That there’s a… well… an  _ absence _ of life lying on your ice in the dungeons? Does it…”

She didn’t have to finish the question. Anna completely understood the telepathy now, because it only took one look for her to know _. _

“Oh,  _ Elsa _ .”

“It’s fine,” Elsa said quickly. “It just feels… heavier. I can manage it.”

Of course she could. Elsa could manage anything. Anna knew that. And she knew that if she let her, Elsa would spend the rest of the night fulfilling duties no longer required of her, relentlessly poring over maps and missives to scrape together some semblance of strategy in a war she had no control over.

“Anna?” Elsa was doing that doleful, too-guilty-to-meet-her-eyes thing that inexplicably made Anna feel like the older one. “Are you angry with me?”

“No.”

“… You’re angry.”

Yes, she was. Anna was furious with herself. Sure, Elsa no longer kept secrets from her—but things like headaches and the discomfort of death on her consciousness weren’t exactly secrets, were they? They were just instances of Elsa dealing with things the way she always had: alone. So how on earth could Anna still be gullible enough to  _ believe _ her sister when she said she was okay?

She clamped down on Elsa’s shoulders. “You’re right; I am. You can make it up to me by relaxing.”

“I’m already—”

“No, you’re not.  _ Relax _ , Elsa. Queen’s orders.” Anna started massaging. And Elsa, for her part, did relax. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, she closed her eyes and melted into her seat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Elsa murmured, wincing.

“You should be,” Anna huffed, kneading even harder. It was only after she had been bored enough to think of massaging Elsa’s perpetually tense shoulders that she’d discovered her sister’s outrageously high pain tolerance—seriously, Elsa barely batted an eyelash at the kind of pressure that usually reduced Kristoff to tears. But Elsa was infuriatingly good at suppressing everything, so Anna had no choice but to take that as a challenge.

Surprisingly, it was pretty good stress relief for her, too.

She viciously levered her elbow down on a pressure point, grinning with satisfaction at the way it made Elsa yelp and grip the sides of the chair. “This muscle knot will never go away if you keep monopolising my study and acting like you want your old job back. Just saying.”

Elsa’s laugh dissolved into a hiss as Anna gleefully dug her elbow in deeper. “I think it’s too late to return; this room has evidence of you all over it. You’ve already lost my letter opener.”

“Oh, it’s here somewhere. Maybe on the dartboard behind the door.”

“… Have you been throwing  _ knives _ across—”

“ _ Anyway— _ how about you fill me in on what you’ve been doing? Looks like a lot.”

Elsa narrowed her eyes, but became distracted when Anna switched to her favourite massage—smoothing her thumbs up and down the base of her skull. Humming in approval, Elsa drew her hair over one shoulder and dipped her head forward so Anna could work her fingers more easily. “You may not like it, Your Majesty.”

“Try me, o loyal subject of mine.”

“In that case, I humbly suggest that it is time to lift the trade embargo on Weselton due to— _ ow _ . Anna!”

“Sorry. I thought I heard you say we should start doing business with Weaseltown again.”

“I did say that.”

Anna threw up her hands and hoisted herself onto the desk, facing Elsa, who regarded her dryly as she gingerly rolled out her neck. “That judgemental old man told his guards to  _ kill _ you, Elsa.”

“I know that. He acted out of fear.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse to hurt someone.”

“No, it’s not. But don’t you see, Anna? I did the same thing. My fear ended up hurting you.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “Elsa, I’m not saying that—”

“I know.” Elsa put her hand on Anna’s knee. “I know. And I won’t force you to forgive the Duke, but if you can forgive me, then you can at least find it in yourself to stop blaming him.”

“That’s completely different. You’re my sister and I love you. He is  _ not _ my sister and I  _ don’t _ love him for trying to murder you.”

“That was three years ago, Anna. It was one man’s mistake. Right now, we need our allies more than ever; Weselton was once our largest partner in trade.”

“ _ Was _ , and for good reason. Even if I plan on becoming best buddies with Duke Dreadful—which I don’t—nothing changes the fact that you spent three years filling Arendelle’s coffers, Elsa. You practically traded years of your lifespan negotiating better agreements with nations that even Father couldn’t get on board during his reign. We don’t need to bargain for Weselton’s furs and oils anymore.”

“No, but we may need their iron.”

Anna’s mouth snapped shut. Her nails dug into the underside of the desk. “We don’t know that yet.”

“We don’t—but it will be too late by the time we do.” Exasperation crept into Elsa’s voice. “I know we’re still waiting to hear back from them, but I’m almost certain that Weselton also received an unwelcome letter from the Southern Isles. If Caleb thought to blackmail us from across the sea, he would definitely have sent the same threats to any neutral nation in his immediate proximity, as long as they have a sizeable army. If Prince Gregory’s coup fails, then we’ll need more than Weselton’s iron; we’ll need their  _ soldiers _ and that might not even—”

Elsa stopped abruptly. Her shoulders tensed once more. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you.”

“Keep going.”

“Anna?”

“You  _ are _ scaring me, but…” Anna took a deep breath and raised her head, swallowing. She felt like tipping into Elsa’s arms. Letting herself be caught and held. She wanted to be protected. She wanted to be the one protecting. “Tell me what I need to hear first, and promise you’ll comfort me afterwards, okay?”

Elsa’s expression tore up like she’d never been more proud and chagrined to have left Arendelle in Anna’s hands—no, on her shoulders. But she nodded and spread out the notes she’d written. She took Anna’s hand and guided it across the map she had unfurled on the desk, murmuring patiently above her ear as if they were simply children reading another book together, exploring fairytales instead of war.

Anna listened. She listened to Elsa explaining that if Caleb remained king and did end up attacking not just Arendelle, but every nation that had refused to support him, then he would surely take his conquest from south to north. Without banding together, smaller nations like Weselton, Eldora, and Vesterland would be bulldozed by the Southern Isles’s forces like dandelions in a storm. How many boats of refugees would wash up on Arendelle then? And how could Arendelle fend off an army that had gorged on and grown larger with each victory, confident that it had already crushed every ally that would have come to their aid?

“It’s not just Weselton, then,” Anna said eventually. “We don’t just need allies—we need an alliance.”

“That’s right. We also need to prevent Caleb from forming one of his own. He may be tied down by Prince Gregory’s siege right now, but all it will take is for someone like the Duke of Weselton to cave to his demands—”

“Oh, hell no.” Anna crossed her arms. “I didn’t sleep through  _ every _ lesson. Weselton has historically sworn fealty to Arendelle so if they want to go bending the knee to Caleb, they’d better be prepared to go through me first.  _ We _ were their biggest trading partner, too, and they didn’t have a workaholic queen bailing them out of expensive imports. If they want access to our lumber and seafood again, then we’re going to ask for a lot more than iron. We’re getting the blueprints for those faster-loading crossbows I know they’ve just perfected. They’ll send us grain so Councillor Fisker can stop hounding me about sharing resources with the refugees. And when all this is over, the Duke is going to march his ‘agile peacock’ self over here and formally apologise to you, Elsa. I want him bowing so deeply we can see his bald patch—that’s going down in writing as a non-exceptional clause.”

Elsa’s mouth hung slightly open as she stared at Anna. Then, slowly, her lips curved. “Non-negotiable term,” she corrected.

“Yes. That. Anything else I missed?”

Elsa shook her head.

Anna’s bravado expired. “No, seriously, you can tell me if there’s something I haven’t thought of. Before I go and do something stupid like—”

“Anna,  _ relax.  _ I genuinely have nothing to add. You’ll always have me, but it’s fine if you don’t always need me. I want you to remember that.”

Anna lowered her head so Elsa wouldn’t see her tearing up again. She needed to get some proper rest—they all did. But then her eyes landed on the map; on Arendelle. And the tiny ink trees above it.

Swallowing, she looked up at Elsa. “Then you should return to the Forest with Ryder and Honeymaren tomorrow.”

There was a long, baffled silence. Anna bit her lip as Elsa’s face cycled through a dozen different emotions. Hurt was the first and the last one to settle. Anna expected it, but it still tore something inside her.

“You need it, Elsa,” she blurted before her sister could speak. “You haven’t had a break—and before you say I haven’t, either, I’m not the one with a headache that won’t go away because the spirits are giving her the cold shoulder. Which means I’m not the one so distracted that she ate all her lutefisk at dinner.”

Elsa recoiled. “There was lutefisk?”

“Lots of it. Everywhere.”

Her sister frowned. “No, there wasn’t.”

“Fine, maybe not everywhere. But I did steal your last mushroom and replace it with a piece of lutefisk, and you absolutely ate that in front of my eyes. I choked so badly Kristoff nearly had to give me the Heimlich manoeuvre.”

“I remember  _ that _ ,” Elsa muttered. “I can’t believe you ate my last mushroom. I was saving it.”

“That’s what I mean—you didn’t even notice! But  _ I _ noticed.” Anna reached up and rubbed Elsa’s brow. “I notice this frown that  _ will _ turn into a wrinkle if you don’t give it a rest. I notice when you’re standing and sitting too straight because you’re this close to going all floppy. I notice when you stare into space and start making little snowflakes for Bruni until you remember he’s not with you. And I know you’re not going to feel any better staying here without answers.”

“Even if that’s true, I wouldn’t just be leaving Arendelle, Anna… I’d be leaving  _ you _ . In the middle of all—this.” Elsa tugged her fingers like she was still wearing gloves. “The people are scared and confused. We’re hiding a fugitive prince. There could be a war—”

“Then come back quickly.” Anna gazed fiercely into her sister’s conflicted eyes. “Go back  _ there _ , and then come back  _ here _ . A bridge has two sides, remember? We already know you can do my job, Elsa—but at the end of the day,  _ you _ are the only one who can do yours. I don’t have magic, sis. That’s just a fact, and it’s fine because I still managed to save you without them. Twice. So trust me, okay?”

Elsa opened her mouth, but now Anna couldn’t stop. It all came pouring out.

“Fix whatever is separating you from the other spirits again. Go to Ahtohallan. Ask Yelana for advice. Talk to the baby reindeer that totally thinks you’re its mother. Leave all this behind and go  _ find yourself _ again, Elsa. Because I… I miss Gale and I miss seeing you riding the Nokk into the horizon like a Valkyrie goddess. I miss knowing that  _ you _ know who you are. So don’t stay because you feel like you need to make sure I don’t screw up. I mean, I probably will anyway—”

“Anna—”

“—I don’t feel in control of anything right now, but hey! It’s been three months and I haven’t burned Arendelle to the ground yet, and now I have this to-do list you wrote for me so it’s not like I’ll even have time to cry over missing you—”

“ _ Anna. _ ”

“Right. Yeah. I’m listening.”

Elsa reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had sprang loose in Anna’s fiery delivery. Then she sighed. “Non-negotiable term.”

“… I’m sorry?”

“Non-negotiable term,” her sister repeated. “I’ll only go if you agree to one thing.”

“Yes,” Anna said instantly.

Elsa looked at her.

“ _ Fine _ . Name your terms. Term.”

“You have to trust me, Anna.”

“Well, duh. Of course I trust you.” She blinked. “Wait. That’s not the condition, is it?  _ Trusting you _ ? Am I not being obvious enough about it? Oh no, do you think I  _ don’t _ trust you?”

“I don’t think that, silly,” Elsa assured. “But lately I’ve been reminded that you must not fully trust me, because you keep forgetting something.”

“Like what? You have to be more specific. You know I forget a lot of things.”

“The most important one.”

Where was Elsa getting this from? Anna was pretty sure she  _ bled _ faith in her sister. “Can you give me a hint? Like charades?”

“I’m already doing it.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. Elsa arched an expectant eyebrow.

Then they both started giggling.

“I’m sorry!” Anna gasped. “I really don’t know! What  _ are _ you doing? Breathing? Laughing? Reading my mind?”

Elsa twirled her hand in a  _ go on _ gesture.

“Oh, we’re really doing this! Okay, um, reading my mind, right? Psychic? Fortune teller? Thinking!”

Mirth overflowing from her twinkling eyes, Elsa pointed at Anna.

“Me? Thinking of me? Aww, sis! Me, too!”

Elsa pointed more insistently.

“What? Me, too? Something I’m doing? Something I said? Oh gosh, I say so many things. What was the last thing? Uh… go back to the Forest? Charades? Of course I trust you?”

Elsa’s eyes widened. She nodded excitedly.

“Oh my God. Trust? Am I close? Are we actually going to get this? Kristoff and Olaf are going to freak.” Anna’s heart raced with adrenaline and glee, flushing away the tension of the past two days. She was surrounded by responsibilities and warfare and paperwork—but here was her sister making her laugh and laughing with her and… pointing at herself?

“You?”

Back at Anna.

“Me?”

A light smile played across Elsa’s lips.

“Oh,” Anna breathed. “ _ You _ trust  _ me. _ ”

“You,” Elsa murmured sternly, “keep forgetting that you’re not the only one who believes in her sister more than anyone or anything. You don’t need to be the same queen I was, and you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. You don’t need magic. You—”

Anna’s tackle sent them both tripping over the chair. Throwing her arms around her sister’s waist, Anna pressed her ear to Elsa’s beating heart, and mumbled, “I lied. I’ll miss you like air.”

Her sister sighed tenderly and squeezed her back, warm and tight. “You are the sun, Anna.”

* * *

“Grandfather! Grandfather! There’s someone—”

“Dagny. Do you remember what we said about noise in the morning?”

“… Keep it down?”

“Correct. Because?”

“It’ll wake Tommy, and Mama will be really grumpy with me?”

“Which means?”

“Um…”

“No waffles for lunch, Dagny.”

“Oh.”

Folding up the day’s edition of  _ The Village Crown _ , Belland reached for his tea and hid a smile as energetic bouncing became careful pattering. A small hand tapped his elbow.

_ Children, _ Belland thought fondly as he tipped his head so Dagny could whisper into his ear.

Then he was throwing a coat over his bedclothes and striding swiftly down the hall. Dagny followed excitedly, making justified hushing noises at the sharp strikes of his cane on the wooden floor. Belland shot her a firm look that sent her scampering up the stairs. Then he buttoned up his coat and opened the door.

It was still early, the village only beginning to wake in a sleepy hum. Dew glistened on his daughter’s potted plants, and the morning air held a brisk snap that made Belland thankful for his coat.

Yet he felt overdressed next to the young woman on his front steps. She wore only a glowing white dress, hands clasped before her.

For a while, Belland’s breaths were all that rose between them, condensing in the cold silence. Then he bowed. “Princess Elsa.”

She inclined her head politely. “Councillor Belland. I apologise for calling so early. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Not at all, Your Highness. Old age has made me an early riser.”

“Perhaps that is not the only factor; I see it runs in the family. Your granddaughter has grown so tall.”

“She has. I pray she behaved respectfully towards you, ma’am.”

“She was delightful,” the princess said without missing a beat, which made Belland chuckle ruefully.

“I will have another word with her.”

“Please don’t. It was rewarding for me to learn that the sextant I remade is working better than the first. I did have a feeling the index and horizon mirrors had been slightly too concave so I was impressed that she…” The princess caught herself and cleared her throat, self-consciously tucking her hair behind one ear.

Belland fought not to smile, and lost. “Your Highness?”

“Yes?”

“It is all we can do to keep Dagny from taking that sextant into bed with her every night. I assure you, ma’am; she treasures your gift very much.”

She smiled back. “I’m pleased to hear that.” Then she paused. “I believe you’ve been looking to speak with me for a while now, Councillor.”

Belland shifted his weight, running a thumb over the top of his cane. “And I was under the impression Your Highness had been purposefully avoiding my company.”

“I was.”

_ One step ahead. _

“And now?”

Her steady gaze met his. “I’d like to ask you for a favour.”


End file.
